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Whispers: Part 9

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Previously on Whispers Part 8: I seized Ally’s hand (who had looked away and closed her eyes), and together we walked into the mirror. The air became thick. It felt like a jello-like mist, or a mist-like jello? But no second soon, I felt a breeze rush a centimeter above my head. “That my friend, is not the end of it,” came Muck’s faint whisper.

The touch? I’d say… soft, yet pointy. The smell? I’d say… fresh grass and dirt. The taste? I’d say… fresh grass and dirt. The sound? I’d say… “Ha ha! He fell flat on his face!”

Ally.

I pushed myself up, and saw the wet grass below me. I stood up, and looked down to wipe the mud off my pants. Now what?

I look up. The view? It was a small… medieval village? Or a type of Enlightenment-like? Renaissance? What’s the difference again? Ugh, maybe I should’ve listened to Ms. Dolle.

Pfft!! Not a chance!

I heard hysteric laughter from Ally, and chuckles from Gram. “Your face!” I touch my face, ulgh! There was mud everywhere…

I look back at the village. It was pretty average, all well kept and organized. It wasn’t coloful, but neither was it too bland. It was… cozy. But I can’t help but feel a whiff of unsatisfaction, or emptiness. Maybe I’ve gone crazy after going through that mirror.

My eyes went wide. The mirror. Muck. Jamie. I search anxiously.

“Mom.”

My eyes land on a woman wearing a green medieval dress. It was accompanied by a golden band on her head. She had simple jewels, adding a dash of spirit.

She is tall and light-skinned, with long hazel hair. She held a straight posture, and stood ready to move at any second. There were circles under her eyes, and wrinkles around them began to form. But it did not matter. For her eyes were majestic, and defeated every flaw she owned.

They were of a pretty, gentle, and tender hazel. And as the sun shone, her eyes sparkled even more. They were breathtaking. Yet at the same time, you could tell she’s seen impediments.

I had almost forgotten about the man behind her. The man’s voice that was heard through the mirror. The man standing firmly, ready to pounce at any sound.

He was of the mysterious type. He wore more of a hunter’s clothing, topped with a bow and arrow.

He was tall and broad, with dark skin. Frighteningly, he had a stoned face, with dark and crypted eyes. His beard was definetly growing, but other that, he looked unusually tidy. His dark brown eyes pierced into mine.

“Leon…” The woman bent down, and faced me. I focus on her eyes wandering, taking every bit of my face. She raised her arm, and used her sleeve to wipe the remaing mud around my eyes.

“It’s really you…” “Mom? What’re you doing here? Where are we?” She smelled like forest. “How… the mirror… why…” “Shh…” She stroked my hair.

Our eyes met, and the world seeemd to stop at that very moment. A pause from what was and what wasn’t. There was no time, no difference. Just us. Just undefined.

Her eyes watered, but she dared not cried. I hoped to be as strong. “I thought you were dead-” a huge lump in my throat arose, and I could talk no more.

“I’ll explain it all. It’s quite complicated really… So many things you don’t know.”

I allowed myself into her arms.

The touch? I’d say… gentle and warm.

Am I dreaming?

The smell? I’d say… the insticntive scent of a mother.

She’s right here.

The taste? I’d say… the lump in my throat.

She’s alive.

The sound? I’d say… silence.

It’s really her.

The sight? I’d say… her.

Strong was what we tried to be.  

But alas, a single tear fell from each of us.

 

 

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Whispers: Part 9