Fiction - Solace

[awomaninvisible]

http://writeworld.tumblr.com/

Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.

The cool night air was a blessed relief after the foetid heat of the ball room. The scented candles, and mingled perfumes and body odours of the guests had only made the miasma in the ostentatiously gilded hall even more unbearable. These people, in their outdated finery, garish makeup, silks, wigs and oversized skirts. All barging and swirling around her parents like so many flies around a carcass. All vying for some small attention and reflected glory from the visiting dignitaries. Her parents, so used to diplomacy and the machinations of the Court, maintained their smiles and gentle grace as the deluge of self-serving burghers and merchants sought favours and advancement through artless compliments and unsubtle undermining of their neighbours and rivals.

This seething mass of over-stuffed humanity was the final, intolerable moment in what had been two interminable months of torture. A tour of the outer provinces for her parents and she, as the oldest daughter, accompanying them as part of her continued education and introduction to society outside of the Royal Court.

As she closed the tall, glazed doors behind her and stepped onto the stone terrace, the cool evening breeze brought the scent of roses and herbs, erasing the cloying odours of the room behind her, allowing her to breath again.

The terrace held views over the knot garden and out towards the landscaped vista beyond. In the darkness it should have been little more than shadows, except the moon was full and bright tonight, its gentle light illuminating the scene before her.

She cast her eyes up to the silver orb, marvelling at it’s clarity away from the smoke of the city. Even at their home, away from the maelstrom of humanity and industry that was the Capital, the night sky was not as bright and clear as this. As she gazed, mesmerized by the celestial beauty, her mind drifted to her own home and the journey that would bring her there in little over a week. To her own scented garden, the rough and tumble of her younger brothers and sisters, the serenity of her music and the quiet peace of her library.

As the doors behind her were thrown open by noisy revellers bringing with them the turbulence of the room beyond, she cast a final, thankful blessing to the moon for those few, peaceful minutes of solitude in its delicate light.