MELITA
Further along the port, she could hear drumbeats and music, wild and enlightening and free – cacophonies of light and sound and noise that would’ve made anyone’s bones ache to dance. She could feel the rushes of the salt air maneuvering past her in a steady, beckoning rivulet, teasing at hair, at clothes, at manifestations of something more – beyond the aching coils of trauma and illustrious foils of torment – that one could breathe in these hallowed halls. Could stay. Could not be pieced and shackled, tied and tethered, away, away, away.But she couldn’t follow into the molten sways or the mighty bonfires. Not now. Hands over the tarp, dragging her cleaned, cleansed whale bone, the honeybee youth had one more task to complete. Then maybe she could join the crowds, the crews, the fiery ash and the thundering void.
She tied her long dress in one knot off to her side, and began to wade out into the sea. Fangorn grumbled from his perch upon the closest rock, the lantern beside him, casting a ghoulish haze across a formidable pumpkin. The girl waved and laughed, and then began to tug the bone along with her, with its rope, with its weight, with its might, certain of the promise laden in her soul.
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
