Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Heart's Cry by Meredith L. Burton

You have a tale to tell of Goldstone Wood? You have read at least one of the novels, and now you have a fan fiction to share? Wonderful! If you would like to contribute to the ever growing world of the Wood, then please send in your story to us at dameimraldera@gmail.com.

Please keep in mind that the stories must involve the worlds in or surrounding Goldstone Wood. This requires that you have read at least one of the novels. Also, please keep story content clean. We have young knights in training here and we wish to edify them as best as possible.


Please use Follow by Email to be notified of all new stories.
 
SPOILER WARNING. This story contains a huge spoiler for those who have not read Golden Daughter. If you have not read Golden Daughter, you will have trouble understanding what perspective this story is from. 
 
 
HEART’S CRY
 by 
Meredith L. Burton

Do you know the pain of emptiness? I do.  Have you felt the pulse of loneliness, the pull and push of life as it ebbs and flows around you like a great sea? I have.  The life is without, ever present but never close enough to grasp.
                I repose in the box to which I have been confined.  I languish in the folds of soft satin, reaching out, touching nothing.  Occasionally, something reaches for me, something that seeks to gather me into itself.  Yet how can I join with this mysterious thing? I cannot move.  Will no one help me?
                The entity in which I once lived will sometimes open the box.  His hand will hover above me, so near and yet so far.  He sometimes bends so close that I feel enveloped in his heat, a heat that carries no warmth.  He will flex his talon-tipped fingers and smile, and the heat will intensify.  Often, though the heat is cold, I long to burrow within it, to feel the closeness of something once again.  Then he turns away with a smile.  “Not quite yet, pretty one,” he croons.  “Very soon now.” The lid of the box falls with a reverberating tattoo, and I am once again entombed.

                Would you begrudge me my anger? I think you’d be wise to consider that I did not choose my fate.  It is difficult to describe the feel of separation from the source you are charged to help live.  Do you know that I once could sing? Of course you do, for you gave me my song.  Might I ask why, then, did you allow him to hurt me so? No answer? Then I shall answer for you.  It is because you are too vast, too great to be contained in one body.  Your knowledge encompasses so much, you do not understand the loneliness of ignorance, the sheer voide of longing for something you cannot have.  I ask you, is it fair?
                What’s that? Oh, but you see, I need no one’s help.  Your knowledge burns, and I have reposed too long here in the cold.  He comes more frequently now, and he says the time is near.  No! You hurt me, Song-Giver, for your gaze burns! You see me for what I am.  It’s not my fault! I-It is no crime to seek to know more, is it? Leave me, I say! You sicken me!

                The lid of my satin prison opens.  There is a change today.  I can feel the heady aura of anticipation.  My pulsing increases.
                “It is time, dear one,” my master hisses.  Flames drip from his tongue, and his smile of glee fills me with hope.
                Will you take me once again into yourself? Will you let me find the knowledge I seek? Every fiber of my being screams these questions as my master’s taloned hand descends.
                The Dragon hesitates, a gleam of genuine bewilderment in his roiling eyes.  “Take you into myself? But, why? I never needed you in the first place.” He laughs, a continuous pulsing thrum of mirth that thunders against my own reverberations.
                I suddenly long to shrink away, to shrink until I am nothing.  Even as I think this, I feel the first prick of pain.  The taloned hands scrape across me as I am lifted into the Dragon’s arms.  His talons rip and gouge me, yet I cannot scream.  Feverishly, I pulse, seeking something I do not know.  It was not supposed to be this way.  I was supposed to learn all things.  I—I was supposed to—
                Heat.  Such cold, burning heat.  Please! Please stop this agony.  Please.  AAACCCHHH!!

                Have you ever sought to be a god and learned that you are nothing? I have.




Note from Author: This monologue is based on the legend in Golden Daughter that explains how the Golden Gong was formed.  The piece should be understood to reflect the passing of time, so the first section occurs shortly after the Dragon’s heart is placed within the satin box.  The middle section occurs sometime later and is meant to reflect the heart’s conversation with the Lumil Eliasul, who is seeking to help it.  The third section occurs as the Golden Gong is being made.
                I do not pretend to know Mrs. Anne Elisabeth’s thoughts concerning this legend.  It is one of the saddest and deepest parts of Goldstone Wood’s history, so deep in fact that it is quite enthralling and something I wanted to explore.  I humbly ask readers to bear in mind that the depiction of the heart might be totally wrong.  Also, I view the heart as having some female characteristics, hence the Dragon’s endearments when he speaks to it.  This fact is meant to reflect betrayal and could be interpreted by some readers in ways I will not discuss here.  I only wish to say that evil violates everything it encounters, so it stands to reason that it violates itself.  It is not my intention to offend anyone.  If you have questions, you can feel free to contact me.  God bless you all.

2 comments:

Becky said...

Powerfully and beautifully written. Well done, Miss Meredith.

Dom said...

It was beautiful!