Red Nightangale

Red Nightangale

January came like a foggy dream. The frosty snow melted from the trees, leaving them bare and vulnerable to the blistering winds. Green patches nascent from the thick white ground, whispering life to the dead earth. Silence was conquered by the quick steps of a girl. She was small, wearing a deep red dashiki over her round body and charcoal hair. Her face expressed visceral concern. She move swiftly through the frosted forest and came to a stop at a semi-frozen stream. Huge chunks of ice floated smoothly through the unfrozen water. She stood there, as still as the trees, then she stepped into the frozen hell. She forded trough the shallow stream, feeling the the melted ice burn her body, paralyzing her movements. She became enmeshed in agonizing pain but she did not stop. Her tortured body finally reached the frosted land, where she laid like a corpse. A young man, whose pigeonhole was as a seal catcher, passed by with his dogs as he tried to yoke them to his slay. He saw the girl's body and took her delicately to his home. As he reached the small humble cottage he was greeted by a rather large stilted lady wearing a bright green dress with golden flower pins. The young man told his mother of his finding. The large women shook her head and disapproved his actions, for their seminal principle was strongly against young wild woman who are not at home. To her, he broke the maxim of her house. She let him in, but brutally impugned his judgment. He went to his room and closed his door, trying to smother his mother's yelling. The girl opened her eyes unconsciously to the new world she was at that instant. He saw her gray eyes wondered at the diurnal spectacle and listen to his mother cursing the heavens. Her eyes met his and both rarefied their souls that instant. The moment seemed like an eternity, making them unflappable to their surroundings. A knock in the door interrupted their intimate stare. It was his little sister, who had a thick large bun with a small cup filled with a deep green dip. He then took it and split it in half, and gave one piece to the young girl in front of him. She accepted it and ate, while he dipped his piece into the dip and took a bite. He felt the tart on top of the bread, reminding him the bitterness of his life. “I am no epicure, but this bread is good.” she muttered quietly. As they both finished, he took a papyrus sheet and with prestidigitation he made a swan.
“Why do you wear that red coat?” he asked in a whisper.
“My mother died at dawn and left me her legacy from 6 generations ago.” she replied dolefully.
“May I cut a swatch?” he asked timidly.
“Do as you please.” she answered with a tiny smile. He cut a small piece and placed it in a tin box. The moon came out as soon as the sun retired from the sky. The concentration of stars lit the mournful evening. The moon looked astronomical compared to the tiny diamonds in the velvet sky. He placed it back in his drawer where he kept an article with his name on the by-line. He went to a drawer and took out a blanket. He covered her, while he sat in a chair and stared at the world with new eyes. He saw the world aggrandized as he faded in stupor. He woke up seeing an empty blanket on the floor. The girl was gone forever, but he rhapsodized in content silence.