《09》Flightless nightingale

                                    

                                          
I liked to call the quiet moments following long drawn hours, serene.
A peaceful lie.
An embrace to serenity, a tranquil facade concealing the tempest within. Silent, still, and contemplative - my closed eyes belied a mind buzzing with the search for missing pieces, akin to an artist in pursuit of a lost muse.
Sought for like a starving animal on the hunt for any little morsel of meat they could find, yet I was always eluded.
Any little memory; like the glimmers of a long lost home, or a warm kitchen flooded with the aroma of home-cooked meals crafted by the hands of a guardian.
Home.
The word ̶s̶t̶u̶n̶g̶ ̶g̶l̶a̶s̶s̶y̶ ̶e̶y̶e̶s̶ held resonance.
I would do anything to reclaim that feeling - struggled to grasp why my memory was so faded in the first place.
Anything to find my own place where families shared the highs of laughter and even the lows of harsh fights. Anything to fill my mild craving; to bicker with siblings and argue over mundane things. 
To race to the dining table just to claim a spot deemed as yours just as one would do for the last offering of food that dinner, laugh over silly mistakes, and live in small closures - to lift up the others in your little troop of shared blood and camaraderie.
To tease and torment and triumph over quaint victories. 
Their faces remained unseen and muddled in my mind, each attempt to picture my own little troop never seeming right. 
Features blurred, left to shallow silhouettes. 
A scream was silenced in the groan shaking the walls.
Two years ago. 
I knew my answers two years ago.
All I had now were vague pieces, no clear direction or knowledge aside from tattered glimpses I wasn't even sure were my own.
Hands mindlessly fumble with the ribbons on my nightgown.
I couldn't even remember what was once the life I led. 
A breath was taken, a distant groan giving way to the locked bars of my cell.
If I thought hard enough I could almost picture one memory I'd worked up all night, then berate myself over what was missing. 
A fauna, like myself, a boy I would've guessed to be only a little older. 
Shen.
The name was plagued with familiarity...the story Inari shared held in fond, stale reguard.
The field was covered in snow as our voices mixed in scolding banter.
I could almost feel the crisp flakes hitting my back as I was thrown off his shoulder to land in a pile of the cold fleece.
W̶a̶i̶t̶.̶.̶.̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶s̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶o̶r̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶s̶?̶
A snide remark left his lips.
His back turning towards me.
̶H̶i̶s̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶.̶.̶.̶I̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶p̶i̶c̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶-̶Short, pale strawberry blonde added a touch of playfulness in the white tresses of his hair, perpetually ruffled and slightly curly in nature. Ears were atop his head, a white hue like my own with faint hints of matching blonde.
The image mocked my head as I pictured myself yelling, launching up from the ̶s̶n̶o̶w̶ l̶e̶a̶f̶ snow covered ground in a mess of angry tears to then latch onto his back like a pissed-off koala bear.
I almost wanted to smile as curiosity sparked...instead a void threatened to swallow me whole.
̶W̶h̶y̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶p̶i̶c̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶.̶.̶.̶?̶ The face I'd grown up with, of a man protective of my honor as though he were its bodyguard.
There was that dull buzz - futile when weighed against veiled obstacles...but it was there. 
A companion I wanted to believe was my conscience keeping my fractured spirit going. For them.
But were those dancing images...imaginary?
Why couldn't my mind just let sleep take me and be done with it.
Parents to love. Siblings to argue with over dumb ideas. Pets. Family dinners.