A cold wind whipped through the trees. The branches overhead were covered in different colors of leaves that floated away with each gust of bitter breath from the skies above. If one were to truly stare it would even appear as if the bark of the trees had gotten more gnarled with the changing of the seasons. As the colder air attested the warmth of summer was quickly fading and turning into a different season, the season of Autumn. Tightening a scarf around her neck the young lightning girl walked through those very trees until she came to the end of the path where a gate awaited her. Her hands only paused for a brief moment before she shoved against the loose gate which swung opened with a loud groan. “Oh shut it.” She quipped towards the gate as she strode boldly past it and into the plotted area decorated with various sized stones, each decorated in their own way with a memorium towards whoever was buried in the ground below.

Despite her boldness Parisa’s steps slowed as she approached a stone that was alone and towards the back of the burial grounds. Every step felt like a sharp knife was stabbing through her chest until there was nothing left save for a gaping hole that never stopped weeping at the sight of the lone stone before her, “Mother.” The word slipped from her tongue like a reverent prayer as Parisa bent on a knee to clear out any weeds which had sought to tangle their way around the tombstone. It was cold and her hands stung against the bristles of the weeds, but she continued to tug and tug away. She would destroy anything that dared to try and destroy the peaceful beauty of her mother’s resting place. At least the flowers she had planted in the late summer still grew along the grounds. Parisa smiled faintly as she reached out to touch one of the golden blooms. It was perfect. Her mother had always loved flowers so Parisa often made certain to plant something here for the season.

Other than that there was only an old gnarled tree with weeping branches that stood guard over her mother’s grave. Parisa glanced up and offered a small wave to the tree, “Hey.” She breathed before glancing towards the left where another stone rested. Whoever her father had been and wherever he had died didn’t matter as her mother still wanted his memory to be near. So they had also purchased another stone to rest next to her mother’s body and while Parisa declared she cared nothing about that mystery man the same flowers that grew along her mother’s grave also decorated his. Parisa turned her gaze away quickly as she realized she had been staring over his resting place. Just an empty tomb to never be filled. The girl twisted a flower in her fingers and sighed.

What would her life had been like if she had both of her parents? Never knowing her father had caused her to become attached to her mother’s hip and being that close to her single mother had fostered her love of music. Losing that very mother had shattered her spirit and caused her to retreat far away from the world. It had given her a bitter feeling about life and had dampened any hope for a brighter future. Yet, that same woman had also left her with a blessing and a curse since music still haunted her. It was in her blood. Everything about rhythm, every melody, every beat, they all attracted her and she enjoyed them. Would she have clung to such things if both of her parents were alive? Who knew? Parisa only knew that being alone had taught her to persevere and to push herself to do whatever she wanted as she had no regard for anyone else’s opinions, especially those who looked down on her.

Losing her parents had taught her to be strong. Despite being heartbroken and despite feeling so utterly alone most days Parisa was in a sense thankful that she could at least be strong enough now to survive on her own. It would be the strength that she needed as she walked into that Academy in the near future and started on her dreams of accomplishing something great in this world. As she stood and brushed the dirt from her skirts Parisa smirked, “I’m still running, mother.” She tilted her head to glanced towards the skies, “I’m simply running forward instead of running away though. I hope you can keep watching over me so I can show you how much you’re missing out on.” As she spoke she moved and hung chimes, made of twisted metal and bells taken from the shop, along a branch on the old tree.

And for a second as Parisa turned away and walked towards the gate once more it was like her mother’s music was there floating on the wind behind her as the chimes slowly swayed in the breeze and danced around each other.

[846]