Ariel

[altariel]

Finduilas is made of air. A tiny ghost story.



Ariel

Finduilas is made of air. Houseless, breathless, she drifts like dust amidst the walls and chambers of her old worn life. Fire cannot touch her, nor water carry her. Finduilas is almost gone.

Hovering, she watches the world unfurl, lifelike as the tapestries that used to shape her days, stitch by careful stitch. The young man’s strength is not enough; the old man’s foresight falters.

Then a fresh scent comes from the Sea. And by the fever-bed, for a son she hardly knew, Finduilas finds her vanished voice. “Breathe,” she whispers. “Breathe the free air.”

Now Finduilas too is free.

Comments

[katlinel.livejournal.com]

It is a lovely, tiny ghost story, as light as the flicker in the air it describes.

ETA: Just to say I meant 'light' in the delicate use of words, not that it was 'lightweight' in any derogatory sense.

[altariel.livejournal.com]

Thank you. (And I took "light" to mean, as in: "My life is light, waiting for the death wind/Like a feather on the back of my hand.")