And the World was Silent

There was very little in the world so beautiful as nature. It was rough and cold, warm and bright, soft and kind. It was everything one was meant to feel in life, through ease and strife. Nature was, in a way, a simile to life.

This was the way that Mia had been raised: she had been taught how to care for bees, how seeds grew differently through the seasons, what soil flower took root in the best. In everything that there was, be it the trees or animals, the blizzards or sweet summer rains, she had always seen the good in it. There were times where it was so much harder to see, but it could always be found. Some days it could be seen in the dew gathered on a blade of grass. Others it was in the mushrooms that grew up the side of a towering old oak tree.

Her mother and father, kind people with warm smiles and warmer hearts, had been gone for years. She was blessed for the seven years she had with them, she thought. After all, some children didn't even get that long.

Her eyes flitted to the sky. It was a beautiful sunset, all gold and violet hues. The colors had blended together and one could almost see the strokes that made it so. It was as if god herself had painted the sky.

In the distance, turbulent dark waters met the bright golden sky. It seemed as though they clashed roughly, fighting for dominance and power. The clashing of waves against spires of slate rock served only to provide background noise to the scene.

Mia was sat on a ledge overlooking it all. The stone was chilly and smooth, like the stone that Mam had once cut vegetables on. Sometimes, Mia could still see the juice squeezed from newly plucked lemons and thinly cut tomatoes. There had been lines, straight as an arrow, that marked the surface of the stone, left behind after years of cutting up vegetables.

When she tried to think about it. Mia couldn't remember what she was doing on the ledge. Surely there was a reason, but it evaded her. A cold gust of wind tugged at her hair and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself in hopes of keeping out the cold. A burst of pain shot through her abdomen, touching seemingly every part of her body. She pulled her arms away and peeled up the edge of her shirt to see a hole in her gut, three centimeters in diameter. The skin around it was stained red, the same as her once blue shirt.

It hit her that she didn't have much time left. No one could, with an injury like that. There was no memory of why she had it, no thought about how it could have happened. Instead, an overwhelming feeling of relief fell upon her. Maybe it was morbid, maybe it was misplaced. But it was calming, the knowledge that she would be gone soon. There was nothing that could be done: only a few seconds were left, weren't there? Maybe she could rest again. She had been looking for a place to call home for so long, and maybe now she could find it again.

Her eyes drifted back towards the ocean, where the sea had calmed slightly, just enough so that there was a fine line between the ocean and the golden sky. Something about it was quieter, and in being quieter it had become more disturbing. There was something about it that she wasn't quite fond of. But it was calmer than before, and she somehow, though not liking it much, she had liked it more than the original chaos.

Maybe, Mia thought, I can see Mam and Pap again. We can plant sunflowers by the north gate, where the sheep grazed before the wolf came. They'll be so pretty with the grass. And the roses on the trellis might be ready for picking. Mam would put them in the vase made of blue glass. A small smile took its place on her face. Mam loved the blue vase.

Another jolt of pain shot through her and Mia flinched internally. She was most certainly dying, that much was becoming increasingly clear. She had known it from the get-go, but it was a surreal thought, that she was going to be gone.

There'll be quiet, at long last. Peace. Mia considered. Pap and I can write poems again. His for Mam and mine for fun. And Mam.... well, Mam will be Mam. I'm so tired. We could... no. I want to sleep. Just for a moment. To lay my head on a rock.

Perhaps it was a morbid thought, but it was what she wanted. It was all that she wanted. To rest. It took just a second to lay herself down on the stone of the ledge and stare out toward the sea.

When the sun grows dim

And the world grows old

I promise you that

It's your hand I will hold

The words came to her in a moment of memory, searching for anything that could comfort her as she died. When she was a younger girl, in the years before her mother died, she had once been sung to every night. The song had calmed her into a peaceful sleep then and she thought maybe it could do so once again. She was unfamiliar with her own voice: it was rough as a piece of sandpaper, filled with tears and fear.

I'll be by your side

When you breathe a great sigh

Your life so sweet and fragile

By the great blue sky

And as the sun sets low

Your eyes once bright with excitement

Will close one final time

The world goes silent

There was one last breath. One last time where air came into her lungs, and one last time where it left. And then she was gone.

And the world was silent.