Twelve Hours (Part One, missing the point. Wait patiently...)

I couldn’t seem to elaborate on any of the subjects I wanted to address this week, so I will simply write today…
Dong. The bell rolled out one note, a deep, resounding sound, and a cloud of mist rose up and obscured everything. When it cleared, the golden sun looked down from within an azure sky…

A young girl sat in the clean green grass, smelling the wildflowers in the clearing. Her short golden hair was bright as the summer around her, bright as her white smock, bright as the light in her deep blue eyes. Birds sang in the trees, beautiful melodies, and light suffused the clearing. From behind the trees, someone watched her, tenderly and longingly. She stood up and stretched her arms to the sky. Life was beautiful, as new as the reborn world in the spring…

The bells pealed twice.

An older girl stood underneath the gently falling snow. Her eyes held gentleness, borne from her experiences. Her hands folded softly in front of her as she looked down upon the last flower of the autumn, frosted now. Its golden bloom had paled to a wan sort of yellow, but still beautiful in a sad sort of way. It was a reflection of the one who stood looking at it, with her heart full of kindness in sorrow…

Three tones rolled out like a call to remember.

A 16-year-old with long golden hair sat underneath the golden leaves of the silver-barked tree. Her blue eyes watched everything, but where once they could have been lively, they were now dulled in simple acceptance. A watching presence filled the air, but whether with evil designs or with only kindness in mind, one could not have said. She held an ornate silver locket in her hand, looking at the hand-painted portrait inside. A single tear rolled from the corner of her eye…

Bronze bells tolled four times.

A young woman, gold hair cut short, stepped out of a train with her head put down. The bright colors of her scarf and sweater failed to offset the air of sadness she bore at all times. She held a small blue notebook in her hand, with black and gold pen, filled with memories of other times. The eyes that watched her marveled at how fair a beauty seemed to be paled, most with sadness and regret that such should be. They wondered how one who seemed so fair, prepared, and well-off could have the look of long years of pain in her eyes. She did not see any of them, nor notice the whispers that followed her…

Five notes rang out.

A woman stood in a tower looking silently across the pale blue lake, reflecting the light of the argent moon. Her hair fell down and obscured much of her face, but she could see through it all. The notes of a haunting harp melody filtered up through the floor, and the cold starlight seemed to glitter ever more brightly, reflecting off her pale face. Slowly she turned and began to take the long steps down…