n i g h t i n g a l e - - (a one-shot) | Teen Ink

n i g h t i n g a l e - - (a one-shot)

June 3, 2015
By amemethyst BRONZE, Calgary, Other
amemethyst BRONZE, Calgary, Other
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

    Their song awakened me.

    It was dark, the slight crescent moon providing a scant amount of light. But there, in the midst of the little woods facing my window, a dim flicker played along the leaves. It was reaching for me...calling to me. The Fae were dancing.

    I stood near the window as if mesmerized. I wanted to run and answer their call, but an urgent fear numbed me. The Fae were dangerous, I knew that...but the ethereal glow of the fire held out its warm hands to me, drawing me in. Come, it whispered, sighed, murmured. You're welcomed here. The words swayed along with the wind, growing louder as the melody became more insistent. Come to us, come to us, come to us...

    The sudden call of a nightingale cut through the voices, brilliant and clear. I held my breath, enraptured in its song. Each note sliced through the strings of fear holding me back and I was soon floating with the tune, dancing towards the flame in the woods.

    Welcome, welcome, the voices whispered around me. The spirits gathered about the fire began to show themselves. Sylphs, dryads, elves...tens upon hundreds of these beautiful beings, their eyes reflecting the glow of the blue blaze. The sound of their music floated between the boughs of the trees, slowly forcing me into a rhythmic dance. I danced until my head spun. I danced until I couldn't breathe. And still I kept on dancing, my feet whisking me along with the melody. Only as the sun began to rise did I slow myself, swaying quietly along with the receding tune. My eyes began to close, and I felt myself falling, falling, down to the green carpet of moss before me. I gazed upward. There they stood, the Fae, their eyes no longer shining with the brightness of the flame, but darkened, betraying no emotion. I sighed silently, too weary to feel panicked, when the sole note of a nightingale's song reached my ears. And then I remembered. The bird of the night symbolized beauty - but its call summoned death.

    The nightingale had lied.


The author's comments:

This was originally a small piece I wrote for a writing contest. The idea came to me while listening to Demi Lovato's song "Nightingale." But the story isn't based off of the song - just the inspiration.


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