She had thought their love would have kept them together. How wrong she had been.
It was dark out, the water of the lake lapping at her feet. She stood in nothing but a silver gown, the hem damp and swirling within the water. Overhead, a thousand stars glimmered like a sea of diamonds that lured her from the safety of her home. She rested one hand on her abdomen, caressed the protruding swell as she stared out at the water.
‘He’s happy now,’ a cool breeze curled around her, playing with the ends of her shawl as she stood motionless on the shoreline. Water pulled at her legs, almost as if calling her from the land to join the depths. Her gaze shifted to the bag resting beside her, wet but standing resolute. “He is happy. He would never have had that, had he stayed…”
Something clear and slender peeked out from under her pack’s flap as if begging her to release it. She knelt and paused. Pale fingers skimmed the damp fabric, hair curling around her as the wind changed directions. It curled around her body, pulled towards the water like an unspoken encouragement breathed on a gentle push.
‘He is happy, but I…I am not,’ She stared at the slender neck of glass calling out to her, mind whirling. She let her fingers graze over the flawless, smooth surface with a sense of wonder. Did she dare? ‘The world is dark. There is nothing more than this bleak, hollow feeling…’
She pulled free her object of interest, revealing a glass bottle housing a scroll. It was quiet, in that moment. She stood, bottle held tightly to her chest. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. Her mind stilled, and a chilled wind fluttered around her. It blew her hair away from her face, tangling within the thick strands.
‘I do not wish to be selfish,’ She sank into the sand, pressed the bottle close to her heart as she lowered her head. She drew in a deep breath, held it and then released it on a soft, calm whisper, “I have done all I could. I’ve never asked for anything…”
She lifted her head, her gaze on the lake’s calm waters. She rose and stepped into the depths, bottle in hand. She went deep, stopping only when the water lapped at her waist and curled through her fingers. She let her hands sink marginally, watching as the water curled around the glass enclosure in a possessive, swirling embrace.
When the water pulled the glass casing from her hands, she whispered, “The silence, I want it to end. The emptiness, filled. The numbness, gone. Grant me this one wish, Spirts of the Lake. Grant me this…”
She left the waters, ignorant to how the bottle vanished under the churning water.
Daily Prompt: Arid