OVERTURE to Nocturn (Part Eight)

Four miracles happen today.

The first miracle, today, is that Damian is still alive. The cancerous blithe that wracks his body makes him resemble a bleached corpse, with sunken eyes of faded jade. When he reaches his hand out to someone from his bed, it is to say one last goodbye.

The second miracle, today, is that Damian's wife, Charlotte, is still beautiful. She shares her partner's onerous malady, but the light of her soul could feed the candle-flame of her life a few more weeks (perhaps). Nobody lets themself remember that it has always been her husband's smile that made that light shine. When she reaches out to someone from her bed, it is to reach out for one final life to touch.

The third miracle today is that Leah came home. She came home with a smile that beamed hope and poured sorrow, on this golden-sun morning in the city. When she reaches her hand out to someone from her bed, it is to grab the hand that can pull her out of hell.

The fourth miracle is why I tell you this tale of what has happened today, in the golden-sun morning in the city. The hospice workers open the knocking door and let in a most peculiar, most haunting woman. She disregards their questions, and enters the apartment's living room. Gaunt Damian's face gets blotchy with excitement, and flustered, weakly stammers, "They say she needs her rest, I need Charlotte, they say she needs rest not me", as Leah is taking his outstretched hand.

Minutes later, the gold sun is covered in cloud, making Charlotte's room take on a shade that would threaten rain. She hears commotion from the hospice people, plus two voices that sound strangely familiar, but this means only one thing, and that is death. Damian is gone. She leans back in the bed, and the beautiful creature prepares to die, eyes closed, hand reaching out for one final life to touch: an angel's.

Darkness falls.

Life's termination brings the strangest dreams, the dream that an angel takes her hand, though Charlotte knows her hand must be cold and level on her breast. That angel is Leah, and behind her is Damian's soul, shining in the golden-sun morning in the city. It will be only a little time before she realizes this is no dream, and this is no death.

Perhaps there was a fifth miracle today, and that is the beautiful flock of birds, in every flying variety and every colour, flying through New York. They circle around one apartment complex, then fly off towards the golden sun; the golden-sun morning in the city.

...

Tomorrow there will be an identical flock in Patia, gathering in a desert maze. They will land all around a solitary man who's eyes refuse to close as the night brings on an orchestra of memories and prophecies in the open sky. The earth is his bed. When Dreamthief reaches out to someone from that bed, it is to give or to recieve, to create or to destroy. Tomorrow will be a beautiful morning in those lands... a golden-sun morning. But you already knew that, didn't you?