DATE: July 2008
TITLE: Day is Done
AUTHOR: LosingInTranslation (Jennifer, losingntrnslatn)
DISCLAIMER: Don’t own anything
associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from
time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!
RATING: Teen/PG
SPOILERS: Season 8 - Some time after
“Goodbye & Good Luck”
PAIRINGS: GSR
WORD COUNT: 440
SUMMARY: Sara goes for a walk along
the shore… Inspired by Longfellow’s
“The Day is Done.”
A/N: Was feeling a touch angsty last week and so I was reading through some poetry.
When I came across “The
Day is Done,” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, I was
compelled by the Plot Bunnies to write this ficlet.
And it really is a ficlet, not just a regularly short
story. If only I could write more of these, it wouldn’t take so long to finish
something. LOL
REVIEWS: Reviews are the way I know if people
are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope
you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for
taking the time to read.
Day Is Done
I walk
along the rocky shore, the cooling dusk swirls around me as the spray from the
rising tide touches my face. The air has gotten warmer as we head into summer,
but I am still chilled to the bone. The desert has entered my soul, and there
is little else which warms me now.
The
shrieking call from a bird of prey forces me to look up into the darkening sky,
and I am rewarded with a single feather wafting down into my field of view. I
watch it lightly dance down through the air currents until it rests upon a rock
before me, the only evidence I have to mark the presence of the bird.
Continuing
on my solitary walk, I begin to see the twinkle of lights as they pop on for
the night in the little town over the next rise. Knowing that each light
signifies another family sitting down to dinner fills me with the longing and
sadness which has driven my every move for months now. I feel apart from that
joy, that warmth of spirit, and mourn for a life I feel not worthy of, not yet.
I want
nothing more than to hear the words that will soothe my soul and set my heart
free. I long to hear the words, spoken in his gentle voice,
calming my restless spirit once more. Not the words of the masters and
bards, which drive home their meanings with the power of a marching band. No, I
want to hear his words, quiet and loving, through careful lips and with the
weight of his heart in every one. Those are the words which sing to me, in
gentle melodies, carried on the wings of butterflies.
So many
deep thoughts inside my head begin to weigh me down and I stop to settle myself
upon the rock wall near the cottage. The mist from the crashing waves is still
fresh and cool on my cheeks and it makes the warm trickle of tears that much
clearer. My sorrow has quickly turned to pain and I know of only one way to
deal with the pain.
Reaching
into my jacket pocket, I pull out my phone and hit redial. Without waiting to
hear his greeting I simply ask, “’Come, read to me some poem…’”
Without
even the hint of a pause, his voice caresses my soul, “’Some simple and
heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless
feeling, And banish the thoughts of day.’ But I don’t need Longfellow to fill
my night with music… I only need ‘the beauty of thy voice’ before the day is
done.”