"Una Nocte"

'Let me in, let me in, let me in, let me in-'

That night, Follia fell asleep to the calming sound of the winter wind and of Satan chanting outside her window.

He stayed outside, whining like a cat, locked outside by its owner, scraping long keratin against the porous and uneven glass.

Honestly, Follia didn't care if he froze out there, what was the point anyway?

She knew that she was venting her failures on him, there was no hope with him since the beginning, not even praying, and sacrificing to the gods saved her.

What would turning to the dark side do?

"It's not like he would die. Even if they did fall, all angels are immortal."

Bitterness laved over Follia, 'that idiot was equipped with indifference to immortality.'

"Bastard."

Noticing that her finally settling emotions started riling up again, Follia took a deep breath and began humming softly to herself. Trying to ignore all the background noise, and hum herself away from the cusp of taking part in impulsive insanity.

Her voice was brittle, breaking at the highest notes which were supposed to be sweet as toffee. Yet, it felt more like thorns to her ears, the tune had no time or rhythm, dancing around her like a drunkard on empty streets, skipping over notes like a filed down gramophone needle.

She continued humming, nonetheless, as vague exposition- I mean sad memories played.

Follia didn't remember much of anything during the time she was cursed. Life's colors were too vivid for her brain and soul to grasp. She once lived in a world where everything was black and white, what was she to do when the world introduced her to indigo?

Maroon?

She shut down.

Comprehending only what was close enough to touch her in the sea of colors, the rest blurred past her, just like time did.

Her past was also slightly clouded.

She remembered two people:

One, who she called Papa, the other Luca. They traveled a lot, her Papa composed symphonies. Her first memories where of his praises, he was a virtuoso, she knew he was, even if others did not.

The song she hummed was meant for her mother when she left him.

"One night, long, long ago."

He would always start with muted happiness in his eyes and a bittersweet simper. He never spoke of before they met, she also knew that her name came from the infliction her father felt while looking down at the child who was the spitting image of the one who forsook them.

And in return, she always hummed the song she so fittingly named, "Una nocte."

"How many nights has it been since then?"

"Haa"

She knew there was no point in asking the dead such things.

As she finished humming, she slowly came back to reality.

She was pleased to hear that silence prevailed, at last, leaving sweet, sweet fermata between the rest of the noise.

'He couldn't have really died outside my window. Right?'

Getting up out of her warm blankets, and stumbling on her numb legs, she made her way to the window and peered out.

There was nothing there, but Follia didn't realize it had started snowing until this moment.

'Where could he have gone?'

A morbid memory entered her head, it came as soon as it left. Leaving no useful information behind, but one which made her stomach churn.

"No, no, no. He's most likely fine."

Follia shook any signs of sympathy out of her head. Why should she feel bad for him?

"If you don't let me in... I'll die."

Follia slightly remembered him saying something to that effect, but she didn't exactly remember what she said in return. It might've been along the lines of,

"Go for it."

"Haa"

How dare a moral dilemma show its face as soon as she decided to pay attention to her surroundings?

"..."

"Merda."

***

Follia walked through her dark neighborhood, looking for signs of where Satan could've gone.

Sadly, there was no sign of withered evergreen, a smell of sulfur, or a feeling of impending doom. He had completely evaded her only senses.

She also realized that even though they practically lived in the same house, she had no definite name to call him by if he got lost.

Calling out, "Come home, Satan!" eleven 'o clock at night as the light snow started turning into something much more sinister, definitely wouldn't attract the slightly confused and even more terrified attention of her neighbors.

At times like this, one had to be quick-witted.

"Tiddles! Where are you?!"

No one would suspect a thing if they thought a poor girl was looking for her runaway cat. Right?

Follia grinned at her brilliance.

A shiver ran down Follia's spine as she imagined finding her over-sized pet hunched over some poor person tearing him limb-from-limb, staining the freshly fallen snow.

Did Satan eat people?

She'd have to check the manual when she got home.

As time past, it felt as if Follia was running in circles.

Though it was now way past midnight, Follia still walked through her dark neighborhood, looking for signs of where Satan could've gone.

Sadly, there was no sign of withered evergreen, a smell of sulfur, or a feeling of impending doom. He had completely evaded her senses.

***