NeverSeen

Ashleeka looked up suddenly from her late-night poetry with a sharp gasp. She tilted her head slightly, staring into space, as if somebody were whispering in her ear. Nodding in understanding, Ashleeka brushed her unfinished rain poem carelessly to the floor and quickly grabbed a new sheet of paper. She paused, waiting, listening to the soothing thrumming of raindrops on the window next to her bed.

Then she scribbled furiously onto the page, as if its importance of being recorded were a matter of life and death. But she never quite looked at the page. It was like she was seeing something on the other side of the paper, staring into space as if in a daydream. Line after line she wrote, until a cryptic and haunting poem was before her.

Come shall three

children, she.

Hard days of late,

encounter fate.

Council of Seven:

for Hell or for Heaven?

Danger to end,

break not, bend.

Warriors arise,

spear of demise.

Light the dark,

a single spark.

Ashes of six

Rise, Phoenix.

Ashleeka blinked several times and looked back down at what she’d written. She read it, smiled curiously, and let it join her pile of papers on the floor.