S is for Shelley

Nobody named me Shelley. The name called to me, whispered to me, as I stood, shivering before my warden, before I was released to the church. When I saw Byron, claiming the poet’s name, I uttered my own new name to the world. It’s the only things we wards of the church get to choose in Paradise. Our bodies, our souls, and voices belong first to the church and afterwards to our masters. Our names, Byron’s and mine, created a bond between us. We looked at each other, smiling a secret smile. We knew we belonged to each other, in our hearts, no matter who else tried to claim us. When we sang in the church choir, our voices took flight, mingling together, inspiring everyone else who listened. Everyone, including the other boys and girls singing, found themselves dreaming, tasting a little bit of what they themselves could be as individuals. Unfortunately, we also caught the lords’ attention. The pale aristocrats, who seek out artistic souls, claiming them for their very own, so they can steal their vitality to replace their own fading energies. Only my lord and master didn’t ask me to call him my lord. He touched my cheek, asking me to call him, ‘Father’, before he took me away from Byron. He locked me away in a golden cage in his home, trapped me in a maze created of the madness within my own mind. ‘Father’ has been trying to force me to sing for him, alone. I’ve been losing my voice. Madness threatens, as I see what lurks behind ‘Father’s human mask. He earnestly wants me to love him, but he’s stealing my life away. A new life, strange and fey, is stirring within me. It’s enabled me to take flight, to locate Byron’s own golden cage. Yes, he’s trapped, too, but he can sense me. All I have to do is find my song, in order to reach him. ‘Father’ has been trying to keep it to himself, but it’s always been one with Byron’s. Come with me, as I transcend my own madness in ‘On the Other Side of the Mask’.


2 thoughts on “S is for Shelley

    1. Thank you! It’s ‘him’, though. 🙂 Shelley took the name Shelley, because it was the name of the poet, Shelley. Whispered legends of those poets have trickled their way into Paradise, in spite of the pale lords’ attempts to cut their city off from the rest of the world.


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