Entry II: Twilight Ember - A Memory of Sparks

Recorded by Aisling, Keeper of Memories

This time, when The Grove called to me, it called me to a knoll tucked behind a row of birch trees. The grass draping the hill invited me to sit a while.

I sat, savored the feeling of the blades of grass between my fingers and toes, closed my eyes, and inhaled. The air before me shimmered as a rift appeared. Space and time unraveled before me. A glowing crimson thread spiraled through, wrapping itself into a celestial seed, the color of love and longing.

The muscles in my chest tightened. I drew my knees to me and held out my hand to receive it.

I felt my body lift, but the prickling of the grass beneath me remained, the blades still crisp between my toes. Eyes still closed, chilled cherry and tart citrus stained my lips.

I was elsewhere.

Though I didn’t know where I was, I did know when. The glow of fading fireworks hovered in the air. This was the festival of lights on the night of the summer solstice. My lips were stained with the same red as the flavored ice I held in my hand. The people around me sat in groups illuminated by multicolored sparks. One particularly bright flash drew my attention to the man sitting next to me. He winked at me and I flushed at the memory of the last time he’d winked at me.

The memory came in flashes. Dancing by the river, running home in the rain, standing closer than we should have under the portico of my house. He somehow still smelled of cinnamon and cardamom. My breath came shallow and fast. I stood beside Ambrose, our backs against the door, our fingers never quite touching. I burst into laughter realizing how wet I was and how wild I must have looked. I clapped my hand over my mouth at the volume of the sound. Ambrose searched for any signs that someone inside had noticed, then restrained his own laughter as relief settled over us. I couldn’t stop giggling. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “All I can think about is your lips.” I stopped giggling. I touched his cheek and ran my thumb over his mouth, considering.

“Rosemary” someone called from around the corner. Ambrose took a step into the rain, turned, took my chin between his finger and thumb, then winked. “Next time.” He dashed into the rain and disappeared behind the vermilion leaves of the willow tree on the far side of the garden. A burst of fireworks wrested me from the memory. I pulled my knees to my chest.

When I glanced back at Ambrose, his eyes were waiting for mine. He was closer than before. I looked around, everyone’s eyes were still occupied by fireworks. I was glad for the darkness obscuring my burning cheeks. I tilted my head skyward to settle myself. His eyes remained on me. I leaned back, burying my fingers in the grass. The smoke from the fireworks wafted over me and I remembered dinner. Ambrose sat across from me in the same seats we’d occupied since childhood. We traded fleeting glances above our plates hoping no one would notice. I filled my mouth with a smoked steak to keep from smiling. Black pepper and cayenne sizzled on my tongue, cardamom cutting through the smoke, citrusy and bright.

The sky flashed.

Fireworks boomed above the humming of the crowd and cicadas, but my world fell silent as I reached toward Ambrose and our hands met. His calloused fingers threaded through mine. The thrill of anticipation knotted my stomach.

I closed my eyes and thought of running my thumb over his lips again. Flashes of soft light danced behind my eyelids.

I opened my eyes. The fireworks were gone, replaced by the sparkle of fireflies in the Grove. I settled into the knoll of grass. My giddy smile lingered. Goosebumps prickled my skin. I ran my fingers up and down my arms and bit my lip as the touch sent shivers up my neck. When I’d settled again, I rose from the knoll and walked homeward. I wanted this memory tree close to me. I buried the seed in the twilight soil and offered a memory of my own: A kiss from my first love in a field full of fireflies. Even after all this time, I still remember his lingering warmth on my lips.

At once, I knew this seed’s name.

Twilight Ember.

I spoke it aloud, and the memory tree curled from the ground, its leaves glowing deep crimson, embers pulsing through their veins.

I marked the place on my map, then tapped the tree for ichor. A spark leapt through me as the crimson liquid pooled at the bottom of the glass. I felt the thrill of the memory return. I smiled, but only for a moment, before remembering my immortality, and that these sparks belong only to mortals. I placed a hand on the ache now in my chest and the other on Twilight Ember. The tree pulsed, the light radiating in answer. The ache grew. I knew then I would not return to this tree.