The Song Of The Cell Novels & Stories

A life that had been lifeless since its inception. This is how my journey ends. This is what it all signifies. My life is a song of winter. A song of death. Under the mourning pine tree let me be laid. Come, oh cold death let me be swayed. As the lonely white snow dissolves the heat. My life shall fly away as it takes my breath. My life, my honor, and dignity be slain. Let my royal armour be torn and stained. My life's a feat though I've tasted defeat.

Sitting in a tiny cell all day was just dead boring. 'We miss our mate too,' Cel added. Yeah, that, too. But what do you expect, Cel? That he would come here and kiss us through these bars? Cel probably had some sassy reply to that, but it was drowned out by the most melodious tune I had ever heard. Where's that coming from? 'Where's what coming from?' I got up from my bed and looked outside the tiny circular window. The song played on while even Bri seemed unbothered, not just Cel.

The room filled with the scent of lavender and sage, and I felt myself relax slightly. She gave me a piece of paper and a dagger, I wrote everything I wanted to tell my Dad. I cut my palm and let the blood dropped on the paper then fold the paper and give her. Moira closed her eyes and began to chant softly, her voice echoing around the room. I felt a sense of Deja Vu as I understand the words she was saying. She sounded ancient and powerful. The Paper instantly flamed up and disappeared. After a few minutes, Moira opened her eyes and turned to face us. "Let's wait for his reply?" she said.

Within the nexus, souls found solace and inspiration, nurturing their inner journey and facilitating the collective exploration of truth and self-realization. The essence of Luna's memoir transformed into an ethereal resonance known as the "Luna Song." This celestial melody carried the timeless wisdom and transformative power of authenticity, resonating through the fabric of the cosmos and stirring the hearts of those who yearned for truth. The Luna Song became a cosmic anthem, inspiring beings to embrace their authentic selves and align with the universal symphony of existence.

After I finished writing everything, I put the notebook back on the table. Then, I took out the medical report from my time in prison and set it on top of the notebook. The report clearly showed that I only had one kidney. When everything was done, it was already 9 PM. I gave the storage room one last look. I had lived here for twelve years. The pipes in the corner made a faint gurgling sound there and then, like it was the house’s heartbeat. However, that heartbeat had nothing to do with me. I was just a vestigial organ here. Even if I were cut away, no one would feel a thing.

Dominic says quietly. "She reads what remains," I say with some sort of maternity pride. In the east-facing room with the pale green walls and the morning light. My phone buzzes. The botanist. "Ella. I've completed the full analysis on Dara's seeds.' A pause. "The compound they produce. I've been trying to find an analogy for what it does to cellular communication." Another pause. "The best I have is: it allows cells to access the information that was there a moment ago. Not the present. The recent past. The residue." A long pause. 'It's like the cells can read what happened in a space after the happening is finished."

I'm sure it has something to do with that silly new fancy cuff she had on her wrist. But now I felt her. I felt her hit the ground and her bone snapped. I saw Nuel shift through her eyes. I felt her inhale the cell eater. They called it the cell eater, though scholars of the old tongue named it Neurophaga. By sight, it is only a plant with purple leaves, kept caged in glass beneath violet lamps. But the moment it breathes air, its petals crumble and scatter, becoming a tide of vermin too small to fight, too hungry to resist.

Even if they somehow stood a chance, I didn’t care. Let them find out the hard way. When they were done with me, they sacrificed another soldier. And that song, that haunting, echoing melody they sang while turning his body into a gem, that was what broke me, not the pain. The song burrowed into my soul and clung there, like mourning turned inside out. They returned me to the cell that night. I lay there in the dark, chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. Every inch of me ached. I wasn’t sure if my heart was still beating out of habit or spite.

"She has given me the voice that I never knew existed. This is for you baby and I hope you forgive me" My eyes widened as I saw Abram sitting on the chair with a Cello, his eyes meeting mine. Blue against amber. My heart skipped several beats as he satrted to sing my favourite song, while his fingers played with the strings of cello. 'Loving can hurt, Loving can hurt sometimes But it's the only thing that I know When it gets hard You know it can get hard, sometimes It is the only thing that makes us feel alive' My feet involuntarily moved in his direction, our eyes never leaving each other, as he sang.

Its vivacious rhythms and beats and off-key notes keep the spring in your steps alive. It's finite, but feels endlessly long at the same time. It's a beautiful song that plays from the moment you bloom, to the day you die. The song that puts one at ease, that reminds you of your existence, that proves you're alive. It's a song stained red, pulsing through your veins at a million miles per hour. It's a song that works hard to keep you uplifted, and moving. The song of life, the song that would play until the universe itself ceases to exist.