[ｃｒｕｍｐｌｅｄ ｗｉｎｇｓ]

Username: crumpled wings

Name: Helena

Gender:female

Story:

Helena hunts for what most people would rather forget about. What she hunts for is illusive, and upon finding it, often spreads its claws into and drags the unfortunate finder into a world of darkness. You see, Helena hunts for forgotten memories. Little wisps of time past that everyone has forgotten, save those few places that hold on to them, never quite able to free them. Helena travels, able to pick up on the slightest stirring of a sleeping memory, and then finds them to put them finally at rest. But of all the memories she has found, the one she found nestled in a rotting cathedral was the most heart wrenchingly beautiful memory she had ever come across, and likely ever will.



Helena had been walking along with no luck for days when she sensed the faintest flicker of a memory. So faint that she almost thought that she had imagined it, when there it was again, a tiny spark of a sweet somber memory. She followed the intermittent flares slowly, and eventually came across a small clearing, with a cathedral nestled in it. At first look it was easy to see that it was crumbling into decay, but Helena needed to find that dim memory, and so she entered the building, her long hair settling once she exited the outside wind. The cathedral’s walls were crumbling and every step seemed to echo and shake throughout the structure. Slowly, Helena made her way to the main room of the cathedral, its high ribbed ceiling cracked in some places, letting in the dying light that lingered outside.



In the middle of the room, Helena stopped, standing in front of an old piano. Its keys cracking and covered with dust but somehow still standing. With a feeling she hadn’t felt before, Helena cleaned off the piano, wiping dirt and dust away, until it stood shining. Placing a single dry rose on the lid’s ledge, she sat down on the rickety chair in front, placing her fingers on the keys. With a quiet breath, she began to play, filling the chamber with a melody that the out-of-tune piano turned eerily beautiful. As she played, she felt the memory begin to breath, and as it woke and grew stronger; felt its hands guiding her into a new song, as its soft voice somehow trembled through the air.



After some time, she felt the memory fade away, just as softly it had come. Closing her eyes, Helena tilted her head back and sighed, unable to shake the sad ethereal feeling from her head and heart. She looked back down at the keys, and noticed now, that the single rose was gone, and replaced with a small feather and handful of dry wildflowers; symbols of freedom and thanks. Taking the flowers, she wove them into her hair, and tied the feather loosely to her single jade earring. She left the cathedral, with one of the things she hunted for, a memory; a memory of the softly singing girl, the only one to ever give her a gift.