Member-only story
A Broken Melody Seeps from the Dirt Under the Hill
Prose Poetry
Did you ever hear the call through the woods at night? Your fair voice was on the wind, lilting in a melody I could remember from Slumber’s soft grasp, and I knew that I would never be free from the ghost of your song.
Did you tramp through the fields under the harvest moon? By day, your dancing steps whirled and whirled till you fell, laughing loud and bright up to the sky, and I could have imagined your body clothed in shadows as your limbs flirted with the dark.
Did you take your chance and make an oath to the Creatures below? They would have loved you, so sweet like a ripe summer fruit — and they would have taken delight to tear out your heart and make it beat in a locked box for all of time.
Did you see the Folk come by the lane? They were hobbled little men, soil-brown skin wrinkled as they crossed once-hallowed ground, and their wares were not of this world — mirrors that showed your true self, pouches that yawned into unknown abysses, and empty birdcages that rattled as if something inside were simply invisible to the eye.
Did you think we might take a turn around the Circle? ‘Round and ‘round we could turn, and our smiles might grow so wide they swallow our faces, yet we’d have no care because we were each other’s phantom pains…
