The Silence of the Euxine
By Mia Hernandez
The harsh waves of the Euxine crashed against the snowy banks of Amasra. The raging waters reflected the frigid void of the dark sky above. The succulent sound of sweet bells, the glistening stars of the heavens, could not be heard through the hostile winds of the north. As the conflict between the Turk gods continued in the skies, the waters grew darker and the hailstorm grew stronger. Amasra was swallowed into darkness, other than the faint, flickering candlelight from the interior of the cabins. The small town of Amasra was shaking, almost shivering, as if it were alive and suffering. The piers of the docks and battered wooden homes violently rocked in synchrozation with the hurricane-like winds. The only source of food the village had were the fallen aviary corpses from the skies that were dragged into the deadly cyclone circling their homeland, and the frosted red cherries that hung fairly on the barren trees. It was a strange phenomenon, those cherries, but they were believed to be the charity of the divine.
A small child as red as a cherry but blue as frost, was huddled in his poor mother’s embrace next to a feeble candle. “Anne, why are the gods at odds with Ayala Ata? He did no wrong,” asked the sobbing child, shivering from the cold and confusion. The mother went to open her chapped mouth, but only a dreaded chill of air exited her fatigued state. For she did not want to agitate the gods, who were already imposing the wintered threat of turning their loved realm into a lemented, infernal region. The tongues of the village were cursed, frost-bitten almost, as they did not dare to face the wrath of the gods. All they were left to do was hope, worship, and face the consequences of the theomachy. The mother hugged her child tighter, giving him the last remnants of her warmth as the tears from their faces froze. The winds and
snow were stained with crimson.
As the winds continued to circle and ravage, an unnatural silence came upon Amasra. The bells. The bells rung. As the mother lay on the earth, pacified by the cold, the son departed from her lingering warmth. Intrigued by the bells, the lone chimes of the bells, he stepped outside the security of his worn cabin. The trees were barren, no longer growing those mysterious frosted cherries, as they have all either been eaten or rotten, but never frozen. Mesmerized by the sweet ringing, it brought the boy happiness, little happiness in time of ruin. The bells rung, and led him to the bays of the Euxine. The waters were calm at the bay, unlike at the docks where the waves pushed and rumbled against the village. The bells. The bells chimed more, luring the child towards the deepest part of the bay, to the shore where the inky water stained the snow with black.
He stood above the shore and dipped his frostbitten ankles in. The remaining red frosted cherries on the barren trees started to fall, leaving rich red marks in the snow. The child walked further and further; the bells started ringing more and more. The inky waters crept up his body, the waves consuming him. The sea was at his ankles, his knees, his neck. The boy was shivering, struggling, but the chimes of the bells lured him deeper and deeper into the Euxine. As the child fully emerged into the Euxine, he failed to breathe, the water penetrated his lungs. His body wrinkled and the currents sent his vessel to the very ground of the Euxine. The bells stopped.
As the poor boy drowned, the storm subsided. The clouds evaporated, and hours of tranquil rain and snow fell on Amasra. As the sun made its way up the horizon, the fields of crimson snow were illuminated. The barren trees were empty, no longer holding the frosted red cherries. But as mysteriously as they appeared as before, they began to grow and multiply, accompanied by blooming little pink blossoms. The stars of the heavens above twinkled in satisfaction, as the gods were pleased, by the sacrifice and new-come silence of the Euxine.
Biography
My name is Mia Hernandez and I’m a sophomore. I’m a pre-med student and have large passions for psychology, research, music, art, and writing. I love to socialize, draw, and write in my free time.
What is your main source of inspiration?
The main source of my inspiration are my peers here at the school. Everyone’s passions and hard work inspire me to pursue my own passions and work. Everyone just kinda supports each other here and I absolutely love it.
What motivated you to write this piece?
I’ve always been inspired by mythology and mystery. I think the two are so interesting, and I adore the culture around the two genres. Also, the variety of imagery and concepts you can use in writing stories sort of excites and motivates me to write more and more. So when the opportunity to merge all these things together into one piece came, I took it.
What is your ideal writing environment?
I really enjoy writing in my own time. Preferably when there isn’t a deadline and when you can freestyle whatever you write, without limit. So basically sitting at a chair by my desk in isolation, just sitting in my own thoughts, I guess. +Extra points if there’s a lit candle (it’s very aesthetically pleasing).
Expressions 