A Lark's Song

Silence lurked…. No birdsong. No crickets chirping. No wind rustling the trees.

Dense fog choked the village.

Alouette trudged, gathering herbs along the darkened trail. Her elixirs helped Father’s hacking cough. Hands, cracked and bleeding, ached from washing and wringing sheets. Life was hard… but Father’s was harder… stooped from hours toiling in the royal gardens for the demanding Empressa Evilina.

Ahead, an ebony line crossed the trail… undulating, a silky black ribbon. Tales were told of genies, creating distraction to lure innocents into danger. She didn’t believe the old myths but the black line, gave her pause.

Crunching and popping filled her ears as she stepped closer. A micro-army marched en masse, black thoraxes and abdomens, lustrous. Ants, carrying pearly-white eggs, moved westward with military precision.

What’s coming?

Blindly, she followed.

Hours later, in a daze, she arrived at a remote hamlet in the west. A chorus line of frogs sang along the shore. Alouette wandered to the water’s edge to listen. Behind the frogs, the ant-line rubbing spirochetes together, harmonized.

Alouette collapsed on a stump, entranced and confused.

Why am I here?

“To find your song,” a voice said. Alouette startled. A miniscule mole nestled to her side, shared the tale of the stolen barrette worn by Evilina’s twin, Vivienne. She was destined for the throne, but disappeared after the heirloom went missing.

“The barrette holds open the curtain, to return light and music to our world. You’ve been chosen to retrieve it.”

“Why me?”

“You have the gift of song.”

“I don’t sing.”

“You used to.”

The mole advised her where to find the safe-guarded treasure.

“To restore balance, the barrette must be worn by one worthy. Evilina is not that one. She seeks its power to dominate and suffocate.”

As instructed, Alouette splattered herself in lake mud, hiding a pouch of sleeping herbs beneath her filthy tunic. She covered her golden hair with a dirty shawl.

Crossing Lacrimosa River, Evilina’s sentries stood guard, but Alouette went unnoticed. Invisible dressed as a hag, she neared the cave where the hairclip was guarded. Even Evilina couldn’t gain access.

“Grandmere,” a young sentry interrupted her. She thrust a handful of herbs into his face and he slumped to the ground.

Within the cave, a shrine of resplendent tapestries beckoned her. Precious gems sparkled from a dark corner. She shook dirt and leaves from her hair before clasping the barrette.

“My little bird,” a cruel voice cackled.

The shrine melted into shiny blackness, shrinking Alouette’s world. Her dusty tunic dissolved, revealing a glimmering thorax, long antennae and six legs.

Looming, Evilina plucked the bejeweled barrette from Alouette’s disappearing hair.

“Sing little bird, Empressa’s time is past,” whispered the mole, close to Alouette’s ear.

Evilina shrieked as an army, silent, descended, mandibles crunching, devoured her. The jeweled barrette fell, ending the spell.

Stunned, Alouette transformed again… golden and glorious. The ants restored the barrette to her hair.

Sentries and villagers bowed before her.

Sunshine streamed and a lark’s song returned.

Alouette…