There was a Time (Love Shots Contest BEST OVERALL PARTICIPANT)

Round 1 Entry - Historical Fiction/Paranormal

Round 1 Entry – Historical Fiction/Paranormal

 

Today, she found herself in a satiny white frock too heavy to run in and a pair of high-heeled ivory shoes interlaced with tiny precious gems. Her long black hair – normally untamed like tongues of flame in a forest fire – was carefully pinned under a gilded diadem that had to be at least five generations old. Glittered black ribbons adorned her long sleeves, twinkling like stars reflected on the vast ocean surface, rippling with each movement and swaying with the wind as if they had minds of their own.

Oddly, she found herself immensely pleased at the ensemble. They felt like second skin to her, and she moved with ethereal grace, in a measured pace, as if she had lived her entire existence wearing long skirts and holding embroidered fans.

As she let her gaze fall on the surroundings, she realized that she was in a middle of a dancing pavilion. Outside the pillars stood mighty tree trunks holding glorious crowns of brown and orange leaves.

She recognized the scent in the air; it was autumn, the season of dying embers and honey-colored leaves. She lazily twirled the dainty parasol in her gloved hands.

It smelled like rot.

It smelled like life.

At this, she smiled. It was familiar. Everything was familiar.

Maybe this time.

The sky was painted purple and indigo and blue, with the sun setting on the horizon, giving way to the night. Twilight.

Maybe this time.

She reached out her left hand to catch a falling leaf. But as soon as she touched it, it crumpled into dust.

"Tabitha!"

She turned. It was a name that bore no meaning, like the thousands of names she had been called since time immemorial, but she responded to it because she knew. Knew that today she was Tabitha. Tabitha Raizel vi Halmervouth, the only daughter of the High Lord of Alders.

"Where have you been?" A young man with an aristocratic air pulled her into his strong, muscled arms. The worry in his voice immediately changed to relief. "The whole kingdom was in an uproar because of you! Why did you disappear on your coming-of-age ball?"

He had eyes that smoldered. She gently touched his face in greeting, letting her fingers brush the stubble on his jaws.

"Is something the matter, love?" he asked, catching her hand and pressing his lips on the insides of her palms. “Are you hurt?”

There was sadness in her eyes, a genuine sadness that was rooted deep in her soul.

His rough fingers traced the paleness of her lips. "Why do you not speak?"

Because I am not her.

"Tabitha?"

I am simply here to bid you farewell in her stead.

"Lord Marshall!" a soldier called out from behind the trees. The soldier was pale and sweating and catching his breath. "We found her! We found Lady Tabitha!"

The young Lord blinked in confusion. "What do you mean? I already found –”

"She was by the bridge, milord! It seemed she was abducted and tortured by the Thurrians! The High Lord already sent two troops to spearhead the capture of the barbarians."

"W-What?"

"I must go call the others, milord. Everyone is to be rounded up for the attack. If you will excuse me."

The young man stared blankly at the retreating soldier's back. It took him several heartbeats before he faced her again.

"Tabitha?” She could almost taste his disbelief. “Did he not see you?"

She gave him a sad smile, for that was all she could offer him. Sadness.

"How can he not see you? You are here! You are alive! I can see you! I can touch you!"

He was a man, but his heart that yearned for the return of his beloved, was still a boy's. Young, and pure, and innocent.

Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye. He had seen her, and in return for acknowledging her anomalous existence, she had let him see what he wanted to see.

A parting gift.

The face of the woman he loved.

"Don't you worry, boy," she whispered in a voice that chimed like silver bells. "She is safe on the other side."

"No." He took a step back. "No, no, no. She cannot be dead." He balled his shaking fists. "No, my Tabitha cannot be truly gone. She cannot do that to me, can she?”

She did not answer. Not because she refused to, but because it no longer mattered.

His arms went limp on his sides.

And then he left. Like all the countless others she had met. For she was just a mirror. It was her holy curse. To let them see what they desired the most. 

Her purpose was done. Was it time to leave again?

She idly twirled the parasol in her gloved hands. She could stay. Wherever she goes, she could always opt to stay.

This was a familiar place. This was a familiar life. She could feel it, that once upon a time, she had lived like this. Like Tabitha.

Must she settle here?

But this was not hers. This was not her life to live. She would never belong. And so she left. Again. To another body. To another world. Trying to find what was once hers. An endless search for a home. An identity. A name.