Midnight Daughter

Conjuring through rock artistry. 🌙
Austin, TX There was only the sound of footsteps in ashes. Yes. Horse’s hooves? She looked up, startled. She blinked. Hard. No.

The burned trees hung like skeletons from the bright blue sky, and the beginnings of wildflowers pushed up from the earth, hopeful. With each step, the dust caught air and wooshed into a cloud of existence. There was only the sound of footsteps in ashes… and the gentle trod of a horse’s hooves. Cast in silhouette against the blazing blue sky, she saw the general gazing down, solemnly. She dropped

to one knee, “Great… great grandfather! But why have you come… all this way?” she stammered. His magnificent white stallion tossed its head with dignity, and he continued to gaze down at her in silence. They stood in still-frame for several minutes. Her mind raced. *I must be going crazy,* she thought. Her great-grandfather had been dead for two-thousand years! But when she opened her eyes, he was still there, silently looking on. They locked eyes and time crawled past. Eventually, she slowly stood up, shrugged, and continued on her walk as if—you know—it was just another normal day when your dead ancestor decides to show up in person. Her pack weighed heavily on her shoulders as she continued her hike. The general kept pace next to her. She began to be quite worried—about her sanity. The sun baked down and the humidity hung from her like a cloak. Her grandfather was definitely there. Suddenly, he began to deviate from the path, and set off straight across the barren landscape, and his steed sped to a trot.

“But wait!” She cried, and took off after him. She ran, dropping her pack, and stumbling over rock and stone, slipping between bramble and log, scraping past thorns and weeds. He was barely in sight. “Ma fu, ma fu!” She yelled, “WAIT!” Her breath had become red, her lungs were sandpaper, her heartbeat slammed behind her eyes. Then, out of nowhere, everything came to a halt. She stood at the edge of a circle of trees. At the center stood a single giant, majestic, and twisted black oak. And then the drums began. Dun-dun. A haunting wail careened over the landscape and every hair on her body stood up. The chanting started. Ayyyyyy-ohhhhh-ayyyyyy. Haaaa-way-ohhhh. Something took ahold of her and took a step forward, then another, as if drawn by some inexorable force. The singing wove in complex melody, echoing in her mind. Reality began to ripple and swim, pulsating. Walking became harder and harder, and heavier and heavier. So heavy. When she couldn’t take another step, she got on her knees and began to crawl. She crawled, and it became harder and more excruciating. Her body was heavy, so heavy. The trees were swelling and pulsating, the chanting was becoming louder and more urgent. At last, she reached the base of the oak, and laid down to take a breath—

—and fainted. As everything turned black, two words hung suspended in the air—

PURSUE MUSIC.