My thanks to all those lovely folks that submitted entries. We had a four way tie for 2nd place; phew! That is an indication of the high standard of the entries received.
Here is Melissa's Entry again for your reading enjoyment!
Stand by for a special announcement regarding October Paragraphs Of Power.
#10
Vestiges
I dreamed of Leda, long forgotten by the centuries.
Her open palms outstretched beneath her pleading eyes.
“Remember me - lost in
the forest by the sparkling seas.
And shed a tear at my unfortunate demise.
I wander endless paths
of cobbled stone from long ago,
And chase elusive
visions from my troubled past,
Through lonely
crumbling ruins of my belov’d ancestral home,
I long to be embraced
by those I love at last.
Pray for me! Pray for
me! Eternity is vast and grey,
My mind’s a pris’ner
in these empty haunted halls,
Oh, how I long to fly away on wings of joy
today.
My tortured soul would
be unchained from these bleak prison walls.”
She began to fade back to the empty hollow tomb,
As I awoke at midnight to the moonlight in my room.
I
shudder as I wake from that bombastic night terror, but the soft moonlight from
my window comforts me as it caresses familiar surroundings and settles
peacefully upon my sheets. Yet my heart drums blood and pounds in my ears. All
the while, one single thought reverberates. Leda was real, as real as that
branch undulating outside my window, waving at me, mocking my fear as if it
were Leda’s arm taunting me. Amidst the fear, I am exhausted as I slump as if an
old pillow mashed into place. I lie to myself. It was just a dream. However, the trickery does not work. Gaunt,
pallid Leda was real, dressed in her Italian renaissance garb. There were bloodstains
on the cloth and her hair was askance in mussed strings that hung below her
waist. Still, she was vaguely pretty and young- perhaps fifteen or sixteen. I’m
puzzled though. I don’t understand why she came for me, why she dragged me
through a reenactment of her life those many centuries ago in a place I’ve
never been, seen, or imagined. There were mountains and forests surrounding a
cobblestone courtyard in front of a stone house that stood like a great grey
ghost in the ether. Fog breathed in and around, shrouding the yard from the dim
light of early morning. To the west, flickering lamps illuminated the entrance
of the building where two massive doors yawned under a pair of dark hollow eye
socket windows with wrought iron terraces. A young woman stood on one, almost
blending into the darkness. It was Leda. Her frail fists clenched around the
cold iron rail as she cried. Bitter tears mixed with drops of icy rain and
trailed down her face as she watched the scene unfolding in the courtyard. She
squinted straight down at black funeral carriages pulled by anxious steeds that
paused near the front entrance. The black horses stamped in place and puffed pale
clouds from their nostrils into cold air. The hearse was there to take the body
of her beloved Grandfather away. The huge arms that hugged her, the gentle eyes
that shone love to her, and the calm deep voice that soothed her worries away
was leaving forever.
Men scrambled around the carriages
in the yard, shouting instructions to one another, stopping to gesture and
hurrying on. “Stay here!” An older man shouted to a boy as he waved him over to
one of the horses. “Hold this one!” The horse tossed his head and lifted the
boy off of his feet. Other horses neighed in nervous bursts as their hooves
clattered on the wet cobblestone. Pallbearers painstakingly carried the wooden
coffin from the house to the back of the hearse. The nervous horses lurched
forward as they felt the movement behind them and the coffin appeared as if it
might fall. Voices rose in distress. Leda watched in horror from her terrace. “Don’t
drop him,” she whispered with a wavering voice. She leaned over the rail with
ornamental spikes pressing into her bodice. The men doubled their efforts, pushing
the coffin safely into place. Leda’s head dropped forward in relief as she
sighed. She caught sight of Vitorre, Grandfather’s oldest friend in the group
of men below. He stepped back and moaned sadly while wiping the rain from his
face. Leda recognized his despair because it mirrored her own. He sensed her
presence and looked up with hopeless eyes. His as hand pressed over his heart
and cried, “Oh Leda, what shall we do?” He turned toward the hearse and looked
at the coffin within, patted the glass with his hand. “There now, Cirro, we
take care of you. We always take care of you, old friend.” He nodded and blew
his nose on the wet handkerchief, before walking away.
Since her grandfather had collapsed
on the stairs, every moment felt like a waking nightmare to Leda. Rain
saturated loose tendrils of hair around her face and dripped onto her dress as
she watched poor broken Vitorre shuffle away.
Only two days before, Grandfather’s
booming laughter echoed throughout the great house as brilliant sunshine filled
every room. Now, the silence was a sickening forecast of the future without
him. Leda closed her eyes to her pain and inhaled the comforting familiar scent
of rain before turning to go back into her room. Once in, she heard
Grandmother’s clipped steps at the base of the stairs as she quipped in a
shrill tone from the bottom of the stairwell, “Shall we leave without you?” The
old woman’s voice was a sharp rasp that invoked unsettled murmurings deep
within Leda’s soul. She was sure that her grandmother’s cold heart caused the
death of the dear old man. Grandmother’s shoes pivoted on the stone floor with
a scratching noise and stepped away toward the entry. Leda whirled toward the stairs
when she heard a muffled voice address Grandmother as the heavy front doors
creaked open. Leda lifted her floor length skirt and clasped the handrail at
the top of the stairs with the other as she descended into her version of the
depths of hell.
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