The Lark's Bitter Song

Outside, birds chirp frivolously as the sun rises and falls, reminding me that the world can go on without her, that the world won’t stop spinning, that time won’t stand still, just because she’s gone.1

The walls are a faded white. Before I came, they would have been immaculate, I’m sure. In my presence, the immaculately white walls turn grey as if ashamed. How could they house one such as me? I, a miserable, dishonourable being am not worthy. After each day that passes, the walls grow a little darker, as if night’s omnipotent paintbrush is slowly painting my cell black, as it might the evening sky. 2

Each speck of dust represents a million moments wasted staring at that nothingness. They collect in the corners, and I roll all the little specks together. What seemed to be lifetimes were spent nudging that dust ball around the cell, as if I were back home, wading through the grassy fields of that distant life. For a second, I’m truly there, playing soccer with the friends of my youth. Their faces are unchanged, unmarred by time, and I can almost deceive myself.3

If I run my hand along the walls of my confinement for long enough, I can always find the same crack. It’s proof that these walls aren’t impenetrable, that they can’t keep me here forever. If I press my eye up against it, I swear I can see outside. I swear I can see the swaying of trees in the wind, the angry fall of rain from dark clouds. I can feel winter’s cold breath upon my cheek, breathing life into this barren cell. I can feel the rain on my face, the wind charging through my hair. And she’s here with me, laughing as she untangles her hair.4

At night, when the lights go out, I stay extremely still. Huddled up in my narrow bed, I can hear the soft pad of feet outside my cell. The warden paces the block, keeping watch. Most of the time the sound of his footsteps are even and unvaried, but sometimes, if you listen carefully, you can hear him stop, take a slurp of his coffee and sigh. I too sigh; smelling the delectable aroma of the coffee, yet knowing it is a sensation I’ll never enjoy: never burn my tongue, never spill it on my suit. But the repetition of the warden’s footsteps is soothing and allows sleep to take me home again. 5

It smells like a sewer in here, with the toilets being always blocked. It seems that whatever comes into the cell can never leave. Flies buzz around the toilet incessantly, giving me a headache, as if the thoughts didn’t do that already. 6

With no one to talk to, I am at the mercy of my thoughts. And I think of her. I think of her guilty blue eyes, her mascara running as the tears slid down her face. I think of how her pupils dilated as I shook her, how she said she was sorry, how I cried as I killed her. And the morning lark sings bitter song after song, heralding each day that dares to pass without her. 4890 dawns where death has withheld its sweet release.7

Yes, death has become the mantra of this futile existence. It whispers its eerie song into my ears, and I listen intently. As dusk settles upon us, for the first time, I can hear the melodic love songs the nightingale sings. Never before, has this proud bird let his voice drift towards us. But tonight I can hear it. And I know what it means. While the lark sings of beginnings, the nightingale sings of ends. I try to laugh, but I cough up more blood. 8

And there she is, walking towards me from afar. In my vision, she grows larger and larger, while the cell shrinks. The dusty walls, the dust ball, the putrid toilet, the narrow bed; everything disappears next to her. The world stops spinning, time stands still; the sun does not rise. It’s just me, her and this bittersweet eternity…9

But out of nowhere the morning lark sings his bitter song. Mockingly, he laughs at me, bringing me back to harsh reality. With a jolt, my heart is forced to beat again. And alas, later that week, my eyes open to face the same dusty cell, listening to the same morning lark sing yet another bitter song. Outside my cell, death and the lark conspire against me. Accomplices, they begin the game again.

Author notes

Malcolm Lowry rulez!

I'm ElfSong ^^
You're DreamWanderer ^^

A contest entry

Psssst comment!

    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
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Comments

1 - 31 of 31

  • Atticus Unanimous
    April 25

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    This is, in a word, exceptional. And I drank it all with the fervor of one dying of thirst. And then I slowed with the mood here, as it got darker, my water was poisoned but I could not stop drinking, though I took my time and found that this piece was brutally satisfying and wonderfully painful all at the same time. You've done an excellent job with your character and his thoughts. You've done an even better job with bringing me in and enslaving me in your piece. Wonderful job here.


    • ElfSong
      April 26
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      Thanks so much for the comment! I'm very glad you enjoyed it =)


  • DreamWanderer gold member
    March 29

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    Yup. You're anonymous I ain't. You can lose the "Malcolm Lowry rulez!" if you like; I regret that silly little rule. Onwards: this was interesting; it had me scratching my head, wondering if this was real, imagined, or even symbolic of something woven further within the words. It's worded to suit a multitude of interpretations. I can see this took a life unto its own and grew up and out in all directions, filling the cell with scents and claustrophobia, and, a little despair. A personal hell, maybe nothing of the sort? Lost, imagined or murdered lover? What IS this, I keep asking myself, what are you getting at? The answer, happily, is literature and a fine nailing down of what I was looking for.

    Take care
    Dw


    • ElfSong
      March 29
      Edit | Reply
      Thank you so much for the comment, I appreciate it


  • Vampiric souls
    March 21

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    This is really interesting. You have written an incredible piece!!
    Thank you so much for entering!!!!
    ~Souls!!! !!!

  • HoneyAngel
    March 15

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    I really enjoyed reading it, it was quite good and I love the descriptions. I like the fact that we never truly knows what happens and only that he kills her.

    I wonder, is he in a gaol cell or a Mental hospital?

    Anyway, good job and thanks for entering.

    Angel


  • SoundInkMusic
    March 14

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    Beautiful. I was hoping for great entries when I started the contest, but this exceeded my expectations - and that is definitely a good thing. This is going straight to the finalists' list. Thank you for sharing this piece with me, I truly enjoyed it.


    • ElfSong
      March 14
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      Thank you so much for the comment and the honourable mention ^^


  • Tricia3 gold member
    March 13
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    So well written

    I really enjoyed every descriptive word on it. A very unusual story.
    Thank you for entering


  • Ashlyn Rose
    February 8

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    it was short and i kind of like short. But I couldn't keep my eyes on it. I just you know had to force myself to continue sorry it just didn't grab my attention


  • tallblondie gold member
    October 18, 2008

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    Fabulous descriptions really brought this story to life - especially the emphasis on the small things - the smell of the coffee, the sound of the birdsong - everything that exemplified the plight of your character. When one is imprisoned it is not the things that are there that impact the most - but the things that are missed - the things that people take for granted in their lives. I like how you tied in his remorse as longing and pain for the woman he killed - that he waited for death because it was the only thing left that had promise for him. Overall, a very poignant piece.

    Thank you for entering Aussie Rules.


  • iPoopAThug
    October 16, 2008

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    Extravagent in a good way

    I have to say it took me about 1/3 of the story to realize it was a criminal in a cell. I have to admit my first impression was that it was someone that was kidnapped. Anyway the wording and the layout of this story is pretty much flawless for what it is.


  • Toxic Paradox
    October 5, 2008

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    I don't want to write just what everyone else has, but I will say that I genuinely like this piece. I think the ambiguity in your character is startling - I almost feel as though I should pity him, but then, he is a murderer pure and simple.

    Also, I am fairly obsessed with nightingales and birdsong in general, which initially drew me to your title. I feel that you have used this conceit effectively throughout and it adds a certain focal point to your narrative.

    Also, whereas too much mystery in a story can sometimes be a bad thing, here it seems to work - I like that we don't actually find out what the girl has done wrong, although I suspect infidelity plays a part. I also like the lack of names given out - it gives your character an almost ethereal quality.

    All in all, I'm quite glad I clicked!


  • xMomo
    October 4, 2008

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    Beautiful. Amazingly worded. I loved every part of it. It was just...I don't even know what to call it. One of my favorite parts was Paragraphs 1-3. They were described very well. Paragraph 5 gave me a sort of scared feeling for some reason. When he sees her and it seemed she was about to die my heart lifted but soon sank as he finds out he's still alive. This whole story kind of made me want to cry. Intense. There we go. Well, good job, more then good job though. Keep writing

  • detty
    October 2, 2008

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    Wow, that's all I can say. I usually don't comment unless it's a story written by my friends or for a contest, but I just had to comment on this because I found it really good. Awesome write! Could really feel the emotions and the decriptions were great.


  • Friesian
    September 28, 2008

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    wow!

    The imagery, the words, the descriptions! AWESOME! Great job! Amazing plot!

    -Lissy


  • Dassy
    September 25, 2008

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    wow! I did not expect the person to kill her! that was really good. Excellent even. The mockingbird was harsh, yes, and you did a great job of describing his prison cell


  • Sgs
    September 18, 2008

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    I never thought of a lark having a "bitter song" because bird singing to me has always been cheerful. In the contest of this work though, it makes perfect sense. Good job!

  • Elphinstone
    September 18, 2008

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    ahh

    yes, this made me cry. I like the description at the beginning, its sets the scene really well so you don't have to keep going back to description, which lets the story folw better, at least, it does ion my opinion, which is the important one for my particular contest.


  • Oddems.
    September 16, 2008

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    That was wonderful - bitter sweet and chilling. Pulled me in and kept me there, making me wonder what she did, how he killed her, and even more. Unique story and very, very interesting. Thanks for entering and good luck!

    PR


  • Oblivion Kitty God silver member
    September 15, 2008

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    This has been featured in many contests, I see. And I can see why you are promoting it. It's very well written. A chilling tale of torture, though I doubt one can truly detail it without having endured it.

    Nonetheless, you've done very well. I didn't find any grammatical errors or anything else that needed fixing. I am curious, however, what your inspiration for this piece was. I write and enjoy dark stories, myself, and I usually have something that sparks my muse.

    At any rate, I like this. Good job.


  • hannah37
    September 15, 2008
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    uhmmm wow.
    that was good.
    strange, but good.
    thanks for entering my contest. :]


  • Valkyrie silver member
    September 12, 2008

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    Wow...that was great! The imagery you used was very powerful. After this: "After each day that passes, the walls grow a little darker, as if night’s omnipotent paintbrush is slowly painting my cell black, as it might the evening sky." I was hooked completely. Woo hoo!
    I found the irony of expecting to die, and then not dying, verymost cool. Psych! You have to live another day, neener neener!
    P2, need that other comma after being. I...am not worthy. The "a miserable, dishonourable being" is getting stuck into the other clause, so you need either a comma on both ends, or no commas.
    P7 usually sentences that begin with a number have that number spelled out. Four thousand, eight hundred and ninety is kinda long though. You might add a word or two before it, and then just keep it in number form
    Your images and detail were great. I loved this short story; it was the more powerful for its brevity. Thanks for entering it in my contest.




  • Thorn-on-the-Rose
    August 30, 2008
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    Good job, this is really powerful writing, keep it up! great job!

  • Writing0Freedom
    August 30, 2008

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    wow! You write really well! The imagery in here is really outstanding and amazing! You made the story really come alive and the pain and grief of the character jumps off the pages to the reader. Some of your lines are just beautiful, I love the morning lark and
    "reminding me that the world can go on without her, that the world won’t stop spinning, that time won’t stand still, just because she’s gone."
    That drew me in. I loved this in. You have genuine talent!


  • Peachy
    August 30, 2008

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    This was.......quite amazing.
    The word use and imagery used in this short story, were breath taking and it pulled me right in. I honestly liked this story; it was very interesting and enjoyable.
    Good Story!


  • Reaver Greeters member
    August 29, 2008
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    Very good. Congrats..you're a finalist thanks for entering and good luck with all yoru writing.


  • Gary Alexander silver member
    August 13, 2008

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    Roskolnikov Lives!

    Dostoyevsky would be proud. For me, I'm glad you put this caveat/mandate in your recent contest rules! Lest I might not have happened on this piece. Good for you! Excellent idea. The voice and tone of this tale is unshakably consistent and well done. You have some fine and remarkable phrases and ideas in here. And together, these are what comprise and point to your talent. Apparent. Of note:"walls turning grey as if ashamed"..."million moments wasted staring at nothingness"..."we nibble on the scraps...we cling to life!"..."flies buzz around the toilet incessantly, giving me a headache"... "Rat, I named him!"..."she grows larger while the cell shrinks"..."4890 dawns"... and of course, "the morning lark sings bitter song after song!"
    What a picture! Quite. Notes from a real "Underground!"
    The only words which I felt broke the mood somewhat, although this may be a bit subjective were: "Slurp"...and "Pitter-patter."
    Excellent.
    GA


  • gezza gold member
    August 13, 2008

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    Evocative

    This is a particularly good work, rich with imagery, and tragic in its ending. You use a diary style - and the sentence structures really do strike me almost to be Asian in flavour (don't ask me why, perhaps in terms of the order of words, some of which is unorthodox, and some of the descriptions are very oriental in style).

    You weave your paragraphs in a way that parallels the monotonous-like nature of the prisoner's existence, but your story is far from monotonous in itself.

    You have a real talent.

    On the flip side, and this is really quite minor, I think you don't use semi-colons correctly, and you have the odd grammar and spelling mistake. I have listed a detailed edit style critique below, but please keep in mind that I consider your story to be a wonderful work.

    para 1 - not sure you necessarily need a comma in the first sentence. A minor point - you reference the movement of the sun in two sentences in the same paragraph - could be better to use two different references for flow reasons.

    para 2 - not sure you need the first comma in the second sentence. "In my presence, the immaculately white walls turn grey as if ashamed." - would have thought the comma would have been better placed after "grey". You definitely need a comma after "being".

    para 3 - "specs" should be "specks" - "spec" is short for "specification".

    para 4 - there definitely should be no comma after "It's proof". The semi-colon should be a colon - as you are not changing direction but in fact clarifying.

    para 5 - the word "bedtime" seems out of step with the wonderful prison-imagery you have written - perhaps simplifying to "When the lights go out, ..." since you mention bed in the next sentence. Wardens tend to be the boss of a prison - is this what you want, or would you rather describe a lesser prison officer? The semi-colon after "sigh" should be a comma, as you are not changing direction in your sentence. The tense could be improved in "Never..." sentence - "Never to burn my tongue; never to spill it on my suit." Not sure "sheer" is appropriate - suggest "monotonous".

    para 6 - is the adjective "mousy" a bit of a tautology? (in terms of describing a rat) - just a thought.

    para 7 - consider removing "being" in the first sentence. consider removing "that" in the second sentence. In the last sentence, would it sound better to say "as if my thoughts.."

    para 9 - not unusual for writers to use "ear" instead of "ears" for whispering. If you are anthropomorphising death, it is normally capitalised "Death". "more blood" - but you do not mention coughing blood before - might want to consider a slight reword there.

    para 11 - ditto about capitalising Death.


  • Ghost of a Siren
    August 13, 2008

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    Breathtaking!

    Oh my goodness, I can't believe there are no comments on this! This was amazing, the flow, the word choices, the imagry...it was all perfect, moving, sad, and beautiful!! I wouldn't change a think.

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