Nightingale
an excerpt

“You must choose one or the other, Maeva.” The phrase was a repetition, an endlessly recycled mantra that cycled through her consciousness. Now she was in the middle of the meadow, faced by Erik, Noe, and an evil looking device. The guillotine.

She thought of the morning of her brother’s death.

“You must choose one or the other, Maeva.” There it was again, that phrase. The sky seemed to echo with the words. Who was saying this? How did they know she was struggling over that very thing? Erik and Noe watched her carefully, and each smiled hopefully when she met their gaze. Erik’s eyes were a deep black, and Noe’s were red. She mused thoughtfully over the color change. Hadn’t Erik’s been blue, and Noe’s brown? Or was it the other way around...

Armand materialized at her side. He was wearing a black robe made out of undoubtedly scratchy fabric, a hood, and even black sandals. She could not recognize him by the part of him that was showing- the end of a crooked nose. She just instinctively knew it was him. She considered putting her fist through that crooked nose.

“You must choose one or the other, Maeva,” came the phrase again, and this time she realized it came from him. He was ordering her to make a decision.

“But I am not ready to choose one or the other!” she shouted impatiently. “I know they want me to make a decision, but I cannot! Can I not just love them both?”

The cloaked figure shook his head solemnly. He held out his hand, and two swarms of bugs arose from the grass and somehow bound the two young men. Two strips of cloth tied around their faces, and they looked imploringly at her over the gags.

Maeva cocked her head to one side, trying to decipher this new development. The two swarms of bugs came to Armand’s side, and he inhaled them. She gathered that the insects were accusing words he had spoken, and that they had bound her friends.

“Choose!” he thundered suddenly. The guillotine’s blade glistened in the sunlight that beamed down at them from an odd angle. Wasn’t it supposed to be in the other part of the sky at this time of year? This must be the summer, then, since the sun could not err. She was sure just the day before had been winter...

“But why must I choose?” she questioned innocently. “If they are both to be killed...”

“That is not what you choose,” replied Armand cynically. Both young men broke down, sobbing, kneeling on the soft grass. Funny, wasn’t grass supposed to be green, not orange? Maeva was mildly concerned at the sight of seeing Erik and Noe cry. Both had seemed too tough to cry in front of her. Perhaps they were afraid to die.

Afraid to die, what a strange thought. Would dying not be a good thing? If she died, she would see Michel again. Noe would see his father again. She supposed that Erik had no one to look forward to in heaven yet, except perhaps his old dog.

“Then what do I choose, if not romantically? For if romantically, I should not choose, since they are both about to die.” She was not entirely sure if her reasoning made since. Did it?

“You are to choose which of these two worthless, spineless slugs are to die.”

Before Maeva could protest at the inaccurate appellation he had given the two of them, she paused at the word die. The guillotine sparkled at her, almost bragging about its smooth, sharp edge.

“...die?” she squeaked.

“Yes. Die.”

Now she knew why Erik and Noe were crying, and why they looked at her imploringly. She held one life and one death in her white hands. The sun wheeled out of sight beyond the trees that surrounded the meadow, and she became disconcerted. Had it not just been noon? A nighttime past while she weighed the decision. She was not only making the choice which one she would marry, but also the one she would condemn to the guillotine.

“I have made my choice,” she finally announced. Three heads snapped to attention. She quietly met the questioning gazes of each. Armand seemed to understand her expression.

“A wise choice.” He was absolutely delighted. “A wise choice, indeed.”

At least he was happy.

Maeva walked slowly to Erik, removed his gag, and knelt to be on his level. Very softly, very gently, she pressed her lips to his. He carefully kissed her back. To his disgust, she did the same with Noe. He was not quite as careful in his response.

Her gray eyes flew to Armand’s face, and with a wave of the man’s hand, their bonds fell into the now red grass and disintegrated. Erik could not hold back the question any longer.

“What is your choice?”

She eyed him sadly, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Armand chortled. “A wise choice indeed.” Slowly, her feet dragging through the crimson grass, she moved to the side of the guillotine and turned to her small audience.

“Dessous le rosier blanc la belle se promène
Blanche comme la neige belle comme le jour
Trois jeunes capitaines tous trois lui font la cour”

Noe dropped to his knees. “No...” His protest came out as a strangled cry. Erik understood as well, and stepped forward to stop her. Armand waved a hand, and he fell back, repelled by some unseen force.

Maeva knelt on the wooden bench and fitted her head through the opening, just as she had seen Michel do.

She thought of the morning of her brother’s death.

“You have made your choice, Maeva.”

Armand pulled the rope. She heard the blade detach and begin to fall.

She woke up screaming.