Thoughts of the Past, Dreams of the Future

Lilith [♡ pt. 2]

The leaves crunched under her feet. Lily wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shivering from the cold. She smiled softly to herself - she loved the forest always, but autumn was when it was at its most beautiful. The trees with their changed foliage - the birches and the redwoods, and the cedars, and the maples - all with leaves of the most beautiful oranges, yellows and browns. The sky was most often still a beautiful blue - it was after all, still October, and not yet the grey of November. And the cold - there was something beautiful in it. Lily loved the way it nipped at her nose, reddened her cheeks. She loved much about the forest.

The place she was headed to though - that was what she truly loved the most. A clearing in the forest - with not much in it besides grass, an old hawthorn tree, that dominated the clearing, and a babbling brook, Lily affectionately called the River of Sorrow. The entire clearing had a sorrowful demeanour - regardless of the time of the year and the weather, it was eternally shrouded by an almost ghostly fog. Not many animals ventured into that part of the forest, but Lily did not mind - she enjoyed the peace, just her, the hawthorn, the brook and the fog, keeping each other company every day for the past seven years. She would unfold a blanket under the Hawthorn, and watch the clearing in silence. Sometimes she took out a book, sometimes she would listen to music. Most days however, she would sit in silence, simply observing the fog as it thickened. She would stay there in that stiff silence, only ever broken by the babbling of the nearby brook, for exactly four hours and one minute, after which time she would fold up her blanket and return home.

Lily was not her given name - Lilith was it, but she never enjoyed that name, and asked everyone she knew to use it for her instead of the latter. Most complied with this request, and those who did not were promptly educated on the reasoning and saw reason in her plea, turning to compliance as well. And thus, she was Lily to the world, and the world knew her as Lily. It was only here, in the clearing, where she was fully herself, with not a soul to watch on and judge. She was Lilith and Lily - both were her. And she had to give time to both facets of herself. 

Lily played the violin. She loved the music with a deep passion, and played in such a way that all could hear the feeling she placed in her music. She played cathartic pieces, she played mourning pieces, she played hopeful pieces. She was part of a violin quartet too, and would often perform with this quartet in the most varied of places. Today though, she planned to play alone - in that place which she had loved so much.

Lilith brought her violin with her to the clearing. The brook held its breath, the fog grew still. All was silent, as Lily tuned her instrument. She closed her eyes, picturing something long buried, something deep beneath her. She placed the bow gently on the strings, and started playing. The Stravinsky elegy for solo violin - she played it beautifully, with much soul and passion. She played and she played, and she played that piece a total of seven times, and the clearing sighed as she played. Then something happened - she did not stop playing. She continued - onto some beautiful improvisation. Some deep, painful, acheronian lamentation. The River of Sorrow wept silently as she played, the fog grew sadder with each note, the hawthorn bent down and brushed Lilith with its branches, as though comforting her. And from deep within the forest, approached something much more malevolent than anything that clearing could offer.

An entity - old as the forest itself, darker than death. It was called forth by the music, hypnotised by its beauty. Lilith played on, her fingers tired from the hard strings. Still, she did not stop. The entity grew closer - it caressed Lilith’s face with its hand. Lilith cried silently. Still, she did not stop. ‘Look what you did to me’, the thing seemed to say. ‘Look at me, Lilith. Look what I have become’. Lilith did not look. Her fingers started bleeding, tiny red droplets fell onto the grass. Still, she did not stop. She could not stop.

The entity sat on the blanket, head tilted slightly. It closed its eyes - it listened to the music. A sort of apology, it seemed to be. It nodded. ‘Good then, Lilith’, it seemed to say. ‘Play your violin. I shall listen’. Lilith played on, blood flowing now down the neck of the violin. The music seemed to be even sweeter now, with the blood in it. It seemed truer, more alive. The entity cried, silent tears streaming down its face. The forest wept with its bard, and the bard wept with it. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the music stopped. The babbling brook resumed its babbling, the hawthorn returned to its original stance, and the fog - the fog. For the first time in the seven years that Lilith had been coming to the clearing, the fog had lifted. It was an uncanny sight - to see the clearing in its entirety for the first time. Lilith put away the violin into the cover, barely looking at the clearing now. She did not look at the hawthorn, she did not think about what was buried beneath it. She did not marvel at the beauty of the clearing, she did not wonder at how clear the water was in the brook. She left, head low. She had atoned for her sin - never again should she return to that clearing. She bandaged her hands and left as silently as she came.

The leaves crunched under her feet. Lily wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shivering - though not from the cold.