Midnight Comes Read online

  Knees weak as I stumbled

  Sick to the core

  The bargain I made

  Was set to close

  As the shallows licked

  The sand from my toes

  I thirsted for love

  When they said it would fill me

  I chased after dreams

  Since they told me I should

  I left my love, the sea, behind

  Because the sun looked brighter on the other side

  Silly little mermaid,

  How could you not have known?

  Little baby mermaid,

  Weren’t you ever told?

  Heartbroken little mermaid,

  Living takes its toll.

  How naïve, little mermaid

  To try and earn a soul.

  Mirror, Mirror, on the wall

  i.

  “tell me your troubles”

  The mirror said

  As pain painted

  Dark trails

  Down my cheeks

  The words,

  The thought drew me in

  Because how easy

  How very easy

  It was

  To watch my face

  darken and smooth,

  Shifting

  in alignment with each sentence,

  As I wept for myself

  To myself

  Of all the problems

  I was drowning under.

  I explained I was ugly

  I told it my nightmares were dark

  I told it

  I fell into funks

  Where

  Everything

  Was like nails

  (dull, rounded, dirty fingernails)

  Carving the skin of an apple

  (or carving my skin—like an apple)

  Everything

  I’d never admit to a living soul

  I told myself

  Safe

  With the soul inside me

  That had died long ago

  Under the crown.

  I listened well.

  The face I used to sway my people

  Into believing that I

  I

  Their benevolent queen

  Would never lie

  Convinced myself,

  Even myself

  That I knew what was best.

  That I was radiant

  Because I spoke it so

  And, as queen,

  My word could be law

  If I decreed it.

  I listened well.

  I fired my advisor

  (A handsome man

  Whom all the stars favored

  By deciding his eyes

  Were the place

  To perform their dance,

  while the sun occupied

  their sky for the day.)

  He did not approve

  Of me

  Of my mirror

  How dare he?

  The glass fogged with my rage.

  How dare his existence

  Raise these questions on

  The value of mine?

  I stormed.

  Breath like cloud,

  Voice like thunder,

  Tears like rain.

  He’d gone too far

  I growled,

  Eyes burning.

  I listened well.

  I called him back.

  And my reflection watched

  From its place on my wall

  As his beautiful head

  Fell

  To the floor.

  He would have spread unrest

  I announced

  In the still room.

  How can a queen rule

  When her councils outshine her?

  That was the answer

  I decided.

  No one would be allowed to live

  Who dared affront me

  In this way.

  In any way.

  I would crush them

  I whispered

  As I charted

  the new gleam of constellations

  glimmering in the low light.

  (that, I found,

  flattered me best).

  I looked stunning,

  My reflection said,

  Lips moving with mine.

  More

  More

  Than ever before.

  And I listened well.

  ii.

  I listened

  And all was well

  I was the fairest in all the land

  Beautiful enough

  To die for.

  And they,

  My people,

  Did.

  iii.

  Then the princess came

  Twirling

  Into my life

  Skirts swirling

  Each step

  Graceful

  Like a dancer

  Like the universe had a song

  And she could hear it

  Like I couldn’t.

  She was not special in that regard.

  But they were different,

  Our songs.

  She heard flute

  and lute

  and harpsichord

  A thousand angels

  Singing in choir

  In unison

  The whole world

  Swelling in harmonies

  (it was how she saw people too)

  Mine

  My view was deeper

  Richer

  Darker

  Percussive timpani,

  Violins,

  And above them

  The chimes

  Sharp staccatos

  And showers of glassy shards

  Soloists with accompaniment

  Not hands-clasped folk-dances

  Lyrics and laughter interchangeable

  Off-key

  Off-beat

  Off-kilter

  Cycling in vertigo.

  iv.

  Even so

  I could not kill her

  (not for lack of trying.)

  Oh, how I hated her.

  Hated her beauty.

  Hated that she did not care,

  And somehow that made her more.

  Instead of less

  As when I had tried it.

  She did not care

  That she was everything

  Everything I ever wanted

  Everything I could never be

  She became my standard

  The measure

  By which I measured myself

  Her joy infuriated me

  Her happiness grated on me

  I ground my teeth

  And left rooms

  When she entered them

  Sometimes.

  Sometimes

  I stayed.

  Sat,

  Glaring,

  And expelled

  My loathing

  With every sigh.

  I hated her

  And I hated my hatred.

  A mother should love her daughter.

  I wished then, that we

  Were tied by the blood of that covenant

  Instead

  My mirror

  and I

  Lusted

  to see hers spilled.

  Even so

  The people loved her.

  Her death

  Would mean revolt

  And a queen

  Needs subjects left to rule

  To shepherd

  To guide

  (to validate, and be validated by)

  So I bided my time,

  Ticking off on my fingers

  All the problems

  Her death would solve

  For me.

  She would have to be a martyr

  I decided

  And my mirror agreed

  But a pensive frown disturbed its face

  Could I live,

  I was forced to ponder,

  With this child

  Raised

  To the statu
s of saint?

  For something

  As simple as dying?

  If that were all it took

  I could have been a goddess already.

  Worshipped in memorial

  An angel taken too soon.

  Do you truly think

  It hadn’t crossed my mind?

  There is no challenge in death.

  Living is the harder fight.

  But she could not live,

  My mirror and I sneered

  But she could not be made a martyr either

  And so

  A compromise.

  She would disappear

  Ungrateful wretch

  Abdicate her claim

  To throne and country

  Flee in the dead of night

  Like a common criminal

  The people

  Fickle in adoration

  Would grumble

  And complain

  Of the spoiled youth

  Who had rejected them

  Thinking only of herself.

  (It is easy to judge

  from one side of the glass.)

  I alone would know the truth

  I would order my huntsman

  To bring me her heart

  And in return

  I would favor his

  With the privilege

  of continuing

  To beat

  v.

  It was a brilliant plan

  My mirror whispered

  The perfect plan.

  I would have the people’s love

  I would have their loyalty.

  Bought, an irrefundable transaction

  Sealed with a pledge of blood.

  I listened well.

  And all was well.

  A heart was brought

  And I ordered it cooked

  And eaten.

  A piece

  To each faithful advisor.

  And the largest

  To me,

  Their queen.

  No gale of chance

  No magician’s spell

  Could bring her back from that.

  vi.

  I retired to my room

  That night.

  The breeze blew through the windows

  And sent the curtains fluttering.

  It was quiet

  I realized

  I mused to my mirror,

  Refusing to lock eyes.

  Scared, perhaps, of what I’d see in them.

  Not stars, this time.

  The eyes are the window to the soul.

  And mine

  Was tying unfamiliar knots

  Inside my chest.

  It was not too far, too cruel.

  It was security.

  I whispered the words

  To the looking glass.

  And I heard

  Nothing

  In return.

  I lifted my gaze, dark lashes

  fluttering

  as they grazed my cheek.

  And in the mirror

  I saw only that

  Which I had ever seen.

  Only

  The reflection

  Of me.

  Lost and Found

  Lost

  Lost I am

  Lost and

  Transparent and

  Cold

  Like the fragments of ice

  Puzzle pieces scattered on the floor

  Before me

  They are supposed to make a word

  The queen told me so

  My queen told me so

  She says

  I am the one to put them back

  In their order

  In their place

  She says it is

  Very

  Important

  I sit at the foot of her throne

  The throne of the queen who kissed me

  And brought the quiet of winter into my soul

  Have you seen her? She is beautiful.

  I am only lost

  Only lost

  Only lost

  “Found”

  There is a girl

  Standing in the doorway

  Speaking

  Too much

  Doesn’t she see? I am working.

  Putting these pieces together

  “I’ve found you”

  That’s what she is saying to me

  This girl

  Hair in braids

  Color in her cheeks

  She looks so out of place

  In this place

  Under the frozen willow

  Where everything is white

  and blue

  and ice

  I dreamed about her

  I think

  Before I met the queen

  Before the pain

  Sharp

  Searing

  Cleaving my heart

  Like butter

  On bread

  And then the nothing

  the Silent

  Blank expanse

  Like a soft

  Carpeting

  Of freshly fallen snow

  Across my mind

  But I do not dream anymore

  The snow is too cold

  I sleep too soundly

  I don’t look up

  I am working

  but this is wrong

  apparently

  because she takes my hand

  and looks so sad

  so broken

  as if I hold the key

  to something far more precious than the sun

  and I have dropped it

  clumsy me

  down a rabbit hole

  where there is no finding it

  no retrieval

  (we are too big

  it is too deep

  impossible task)

  (like this puzzle)

  (I will never say that

  never out loud

  but I think it)

  A breath

  Puff of white

  Brushes my cheek

  Hot

  Burning

  I look

  She is crying

  Crying and mouthing words I cannot understand

  I should understand

  But I look

  I listen

  And my mind passes through them

  Like glass

  Like ice

  I cannot

  What are you saying?

  What are you saying to me?

  My queen would say

  “it does not matter”

  “nothing matters”

  I think that she is wrong

  Some things do.

  Important things.

  Like this puzzle.

  The word it spells out.

  She says it is a freeing word.

  The girl takes my hands

  Both my hands

  I cannot work while she holds them

  That is her goal, most likely

  Her tears fall on our hands

  And I feel warmth

  Creep

  Slither

  Crawl

  Up my limbs

  All the way

  To my heart

  Which, I think,

  Begins to beat

  Again

  That is new.

  Or old

  Perhaps.

  She says a word

  A name.

  And it is my name.

  I remember now

  The kiss, the pain, yes, I

  I never lost those.

  But before

  Before all that:

  The girl

  The village

  The family

  The roses in the window box

  Her roses in the window box

  My family

  My village

  My friend.

  She lunges forwards

  Hugs me

  And the puzzle pieces scatter

  Across the floor

  The winter b
lows away

  In my mind

  To cool, sweet, rose colored spring

  And the word I have been searching for:

  “Found.”

  About the Author

  Sierra Blasko is, and always plans to be, a dreamer of impossible dreams, and a hoper of far-flung hopes. A born-again Christian, she lives in Massachusetts with her two parents, three siblings, and zero dragons (hopefully someday that last one will change). She will be starting her freshman year of college in the fall of 2018, pursuing a double major in English/Writing and Theatre for Social Justice, and she cannot wait to see what life holds in store.