One by One

"You never explained to me how you know."

She smiled.

"That's because I don't. It's just a pleasant thought. I'd like to think that my little troubles mattered enough. Just enough for one final gesture."

The letter, crinkled and frail like an old leaf, lay on the far end of the desk beside the window. The same spot from where I visited a year and a half ago. The same spot where she had laid her head and told me there was little else left but the window's sill. That same spot...where she claimed someone had flown in and delivered her the message we thought would never come.

"...It's his. Why do you just leave it there?"

She stopped my hand from grabbing the decrepit old thing. Dust misted its surface. Every hint of wind caused it to shift and twinkle dimly in the light, as if taunting me to catch it before it drifted out where I couldn't follow. I could hardly make out the words rubbed deep into the parchment's surface.

Boat 17.

Willow trees.

My only favorite.

Marie.

Sure enough, a cruel mockery of a breeze swept through the curtains, lifting the crumpled creature and pulling it toward the edge of the window. I tried to wrench my hand from hers, but she held on with a grip almost desperate.

I watched it float out of sight, probably destined to a wet fate at the ocean's edge or less dignified one beneath the feet of the busy tourists below. I looked to her, who stared after it without a word. Without an explanation. Without anything. The faint shape of the paper lingered among the gray film on the desk.

...Where was the messenger now?

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A little something I whipped up in my spare time. This is the first piece in a small series based on a myth I made up a while ago. I wanted to give it a somewhat colorful, pop appeal, while still feeling like an introduction. Hopefully I succeeded. _{and hopefully you won't be too angry at this shitty as fuck bitch crap motherfricking camera quality agghhhhh}

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Colored pencil with touches of ink and paint on cardstock _{the title is from Enya's song 'One by One', listen to it and just try not to think of bird people delivering messages to houses surrounded by the sea, I dare you}

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Re-scanned. It looks so much nicer I could cry.