So long.

[dragonqueen]

So long. It’s been so long, since last I walked the earth. 10,000 years. But after a while, the time doesn’t matter. You slip into a stasis, not thinking, not living. Now finally, finally, my chance has come, to rise, for a few precious hours, and feel the breath of night air on my face. Slowly, achingly slowly, I stretch out my arms, and feel them hit the rotting lid of my coffin. I push it open, and, beginning to learn to move again, rise up as the wolf howls. My flesh is rotting, my innards eaten, but my mind is still whole, and thus I step out of my final resting place. I feel the wind blowing the greasy, lank hair back from my face. Ah, my hair. It used to be my pride and joy; long, shining, the color of ripe wheat. Now, it no longer matters. The dead have no pride, no joy. All around me, I see my brethren rise. We have come from every corner of the earth to this hidden graveyard, but we share one thing in common. All of us have paid the terrible price for this chance to live again, once every 10,000 years. Was it worth it? I don’t know. The agony of being in between worlds, being the living dead, the waiting, it doesn’t seem like it. But then, walking the earth once more, I know it was. Anything would be worth it, this chance to live again. The night warms my sleeping bones. I try to speak, to shout, but nothing emerges. I cannot speak, for my vocal cords distengrated long ago. Momentary disappointment strikes me, but I brush it away. I will speak soon. The night is dark and cool, the moon shadowed by clouds. Suddenly, the clouds are pushed aside. This is what we have all been waiting for. The fragile, ethereal moonlight falls upon us, restoring to us our former glory. I feel my flesh restore itself, and the hands of time are turned back. I shriek for joy, hearing the shrill, unused voices of my fellows all around me. I smile, for I am beautiful once more; an otherworldly being, my platinum hair floating around me in an eerie halo. I know what I look like. An angel, cold and glorious. I am no angel, though, but a devil, who has sold my soul to Satan. Such was my ambition to live again; such was my fear of eternal death. What use has a dead woman of a soul, though? Surely it is worth it, to be offered this once in a lifetime chance. I have no time to ponder this, though, for now I must perform the Dance. Our movements quickening with a strange urgency, we form a circle, and begin to whirl. My hair is flying, and I feel young and energetic. The Dance possesses me, and it is my only thought. But finally, finally, I fall to the ground, my sudden energy depleted, the elation departing from me. I lay, panting, and the moon disappears. I scream, begging to stay just another moment, but the dark steals my voice from me, and I am returned to my rightful condition once more. Wishing I could weep, I slip back to my tomb, and fall, as if fainted, into my coffin. The lid closes over me, and I am screaming in my heart, screaming with the pain of the doomed. It will be another 10,000 years. Already, the memory fades from my mind, lost among countless others. So long, so long have I been trapped in this endless circle. Oh, dear Lord, it was not worth it, I know this now. Please, dear Lord, tear me from this doomed circle. It has been so long, so long.