Nanofiction: Heartbeats in the Night
Winta looked up, into the face of the woman she loved, and saw a symphony.
The trees sang. It was as if they always had, but were too quiet to be heard, and what had simply happened was that the volume had been turned up. The wildflowers around her began to rise up, rise up, rise up, trumpeting the soft hymn of the spheres, and the wind seemed to vibrate reedily as it blew, playing the entire instrument of the world. She felt the atmosphere -- no, the music itself, run across her skin, lightly touching it, as if it were alive, and she could feel the thunder of the air in her lungs, the crash of the blood in her veins.
And Winta's heart began to beat, stronger and harder and faster, as the song began to enter a crescendo and rang in her mind.
It was only in the hush of dawn that they found her, dead of a stroke, staring glassy-eyed into some distant place.
The trees sang. It was as if they always had, but were too quiet to be heard, and what had simply happened was that the volume had been turned up. The wildflowers around her began to rise up, rise up, rise up, trumpeting the soft hymn of the spheres, and the wind seemed to vibrate reedily as it blew, playing the entire instrument of the world. She felt the atmosphere -- no, the music itself, run across her skin, lightly touching it, as if it were alive, and she could feel the thunder of the air in her lungs, the crash of the blood in her veins.
And Winta's heart began to beat, stronger and harder and faster, as the song began to enter a crescendo and rang in her mind.
It was only in the hush of dawn that they found her, dead of a stroke, staring glassy-eyed into some distant place.