Written by: Aarav Timilsina - 26028, Grade VIII
Posted on: 27 June, 2023
The dark and long nights of winter were soon very common in the bustling city of Arkensel. The city roared loudly during the day, the stomping of boots and the so obnoxious bargaining at the city square, but at night the city seemed abandoned, wretched even. The windows with no light now were laid with dust and grime. The shrews and other rodents scurried along the street, their grimy paws settling at any piece of rotten mould they could find. The city could not look so charming if it were not for what they call the ‘whispers of the wind’, that was the name given to the little girl who sat atop the church clinging onto the church spire she hummed carols and tales. Even wind guides her sonorous voice to the houses of civilians, shushing infants to sleep and to bear with the ones who go through sleepless nights. No force stops her, the rain she wipes away, the wind she shields herself from and to the beat of the thundering she dances, yet she still sings, but why ? Why must she cradle others to sleep while she herself tires her throat. None have met the girl or even inquired about her, the nuns at the church say they have never heard of this little girl and that she must be from the slums. Her name, her identity they never knew but they all knew that she was the spirit of the City.
Lady Beatrice, owner of the most profound and preferred liquor brand in the city and also the Lady of the Wellington Manor grew extremely curious about the singing voice. She herself on many occasions had been nursed back to health by that magical soothing voice. Lady Beatrice herself was quite rich being the spouse of one of the richest noblemen in the city and managing a quite famous chain of taverns and already had a son of age 9, but she dreamt of a lovely, noble daughter to take care of, one that could make her smile, one that could soothe all her problems and make her feel at ease. It wasn't long until she realised she already had a girl who filled up her expectations. The whispering voice, she had never seen or heard of the voice but she hoped she could keep it. Her dreams existed only from the pleasure from the voice. For the next few days, she peered over the barrage of houses just to get the glimpse of the glowing outline of the girl. Lady Beatrice finally decided it was time to go meet the whispering voice. She waited around in the church, pretending to be in serious prayer if someone inquired and of course no one would dare disturb such a loyal servant of God, not even the nuns, as the heavenly gates closed behind her aching back Mrs Wellington quickly got up and ran up the spiral staircase to the balcony. She waited for a while, her eyes locked upon the huge ornamental compass placed upon the cathedral where the girl stood and delivered her magic.
Soon, with the soft whipping of the air a glowing figure appeared out of nowhere and for a split second rode the winds. The girl wore the most translucent and petite gown that was draped around her body. She landed on the spire as delicately as a feather touching the water. Her small feet were as beautiful as lotus buds and her face gave the same glow as the moon. Lady Beatrice was stunned to encounter such a goddess. She stood there grasping the ends of her shawl and slightly quivering. The Whisper looked at her with her big, blue eyes and whispered “Come Closer” letting out a hand for her. She let go of the shawl and let it flow into the wind as the Whisper pulled her into the spire. Lady Beatrice was now face to face with the reason she sleeps so sound. The goddess began singing in her heavenly voice again, captivating Lady Beatrice and mesmerising her. After she was finished, Lady Beatrice said to her “You have an incredible voice, young lady. You have aided my sleepless nights and soothed me for which I am indeed grateful for. I want you for myself, for you to sing me to sleep outside my window, please , I will treat you as my own daughter” The whisper slightly frowned at the end. She said “ You are indeed quite fond of me, so are everyone in this busy town, for these 8 hours I carry their stress and burdens to make them at ease, but I am afraid I can't accept your request as I don’t work for anyone, sing to soothe myself and others around me “Lady Beatrice was not used to rejection, she was a noble after all.” She lashed out “You Idiot, I let you be in my presence, but you refuse my offer, I wont accept this” saying this Lady Beatrice grabbed at the Whisper’s hand and pulled scaring her. The Whisper floated away onto the balcony and Lady Beatrice slipped and fell to her inevitable death . Moral : Actions have Consequences
