Melodies, Memories, And Dreams!
Title: Melodies, Memories, And Dreams
Challenge: #31 - Annabel Lee - Nox Arcana
Media: Original Fiction
Notes/Warnings: I wrote this for the weekly music challenge at storytellersong.
Melodies, Memories, And Dreams
The mist oozes up around my bare feet and I search, through the darkness, but my eyes refuse to adjust. I hear a sound, almost like a voice, taunting me, calling me, but I am unable to move. My body will not do as my mind wills it to.
A tinkling of music begins, far off in the distance, but then, then it comes closer and I am reminded of a music box, the one I used to sit for hours and listen too on days with it rained and I could not go outside to play.
The melody is soft and sweet, yet it haunts my soul and I tremble from within at it’s lovely, yet tortured tune. Then the mist clears and I see the music box, oval in shape, intricately carved on the top and sides, sitting on the ground on its small legs. It is my music box from my childhood.
The lid is open and the sound floats to my ears from the small box. It’s red velvet lining is glowing from an unknown light source and for the first time I am able to move. I step forward, the mist disappearing around my feet as I walk, until I am standing in front of the small music box.
I reach down and pick it up, and it feels cool to the touch, its silver case is damp, probably from the moisture of the mist, so I wipe it off on my white gown that is gently swaying in the breeze.
The key on the bottom of the music box continues to turn, never ceasing. I am mystified at how the music keeps playing. When I listened to it as a child, I would have to wind it ever minute or so to keep the music playing.
I watch as the key moves slowly, round and round, just above the palm of my hand as I cradle the music box and study it. I love the melody, even though it makes me sad. I want the music to continue, but at the same time I want it to stop too.
The tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes and I feel them slowly began to descend down my cheeks, chapping them in the cool night air making them sting and I wonder why I am so sad. I close my eyes and I see the image of my grandmother, her white hair in a bun atop her head and she’s smiling at me.
That’s right. I remember now. This music box was a gift from my grandmother when I was a little girl. She gave it to me for my birthday. But where is she now? And where has my music box been all these years?
I stare for what seems like hours at the music box and the tears fall faster and more fluid with every minute that passes. But then, without knowing the reason why, I slowly reach up and touch the lid. I let my fingers trace the patterns on the top and I began to close it, but it’s hard to stop the music. I don’t want to end, but somewhere inside of me I know it must.
"Rachelle. Rachelle. Wake up. Wake up. It’s time to go now. The funeral will be starting in an hour. It’s time to go say goodbye," a woman’s voice calls to me.
I open my eyes and realize I had fallen asleep in the chair in the den of my mom’s house. I look down and I’m dressed in black. My dress isn’t wrinkled, because I hadn’t laid down, just dozed off in the armchair.
I look up at my mom and she wipes the tears away. They had been real. As I get up to straighten out my clothes and smooth my dress down over my lap, I stop and think back to the dream I had just had and it all made sense.
The music box was my grandmother and I didn’t want her to leave, but she did. And when I stopped the music from playing, I was ready to say goodbye to her, and let her rest in peace. I knew that I would have my memories of her to keep her close to my heart.
We were just about to leave the house when my mom stopped in the hallway and said, "Wait just a minute. I forgot something," as she turned and walked back toward the den.
When she came back, she was holding an object, wrapped in a white cloth, it looked like an old handkerchief. She reached out and took my hand, bringing it up so she could place the item in my hand.
"What is this mom?" I asked, looking confused.
"Your grandmother wanted you to have this. She wanted you to keep it now," she said.
I took the object and held it close to my stomach as I carefully unwrapped it. I gasped as I looked down and saw that it was the music box and then I remembered. When my grandmother had gotten sick and couldn’t get out of bed any longer, I had given the music box back to her to keep her company. But now that she didn’t need it anymore, she had given it back to me.
As I closed my eyes, I saw her face smiling at me and I knew she was truly at peace and I would have the music box to remind me of her always.
Challenge: #31 - Annabel Lee - Nox Arcana
Media: Original Fiction
Notes/Warnings: I wrote this for the weekly music challenge at storytellersong.
Melodies, Memories, And Dreams
The mist oozes up around my bare feet and I search, through the darkness, but my eyes refuse to adjust. I hear a sound, almost like a voice, taunting me, calling me, but I am unable to move. My body will not do as my mind wills it to.
A tinkling of music begins, far off in the distance, but then, then it comes closer and I am reminded of a music box, the one I used to sit for hours and listen too on days with it rained and I could not go outside to play.
The melody is soft and sweet, yet it haunts my soul and I tremble from within at it’s lovely, yet tortured tune. Then the mist clears and I see the music box, oval in shape, intricately carved on the top and sides, sitting on the ground on its small legs. It is my music box from my childhood.
The lid is open and the sound floats to my ears from the small box. It’s red velvet lining is glowing from an unknown light source and for the first time I am able to move. I step forward, the mist disappearing around my feet as I walk, until I am standing in front of the small music box.
I reach down and pick it up, and it feels cool to the touch, its silver case is damp, probably from the moisture of the mist, so I wipe it off on my white gown that is gently swaying in the breeze.
The key on the bottom of the music box continues to turn, never ceasing. I am mystified at how the music keeps playing. When I listened to it as a child, I would have to wind it ever minute or so to keep the music playing.
I watch as the key moves slowly, round and round, just above the palm of my hand as I cradle the music box and study it. I love the melody, even though it makes me sad. I want the music to continue, but at the same time I want it to stop too.
The tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes and I feel them slowly began to descend down my cheeks, chapping them in the cool night air making them sting and I wonder why I am so sad. I close my eyes and I see the image of my grandmother, her white hair in a bun atop her head and she’s smiling at me.
That’s right. I remember now. This music box was a gift from my grandmother when I was a little girl. She gave it to me for my birthday. But where is she now? And where has my music box been all these years?
I stare for what seems like hours at the music box and the tears fall faster and more fluid with every minute that passes. But then, without knowing the reason why, I slowly reach up and touch the lid. I let my fingers trace the patterns on the top and I began to close it, but it’s hard to stop the music. I don’t want to end, but somewhere inside of me I know it must.
"Rachelle. Rachelle. Wake up. Wake up. It’s time to go now. The funeral will be starting in an hour. It’s time to go say goodbye," a woman’s voice calls to me.
I open my eyes and realize I had fallen asleep in the chair in the den of my mom’s house. I look down and I’m dressed in black. My dress isn’t wrinkled, because I hadn’t laid down, just dozed off in the armchair.
I look up at my mom and she wipes the tears away. They had been real. As I get up to straighten out my clothes and smooth my dress down over my lap, I stop and think back to the dream I had just had and it all made sense.
The music box was my grandmother and I didn’t want her to leave, but she did. And when I stopped the music from playing, I was ready to say goodbye to her, and let her rest in peace. I knew that I would have my memories of her to keep her close to my heart.
We were just about to leave the house when my mom stopped in the hallway and said, "Wait just a minute. I forgot something," as she turned and walked back toward the den.
When she came back, she was holding an object, wrapped in a white cloth, it looked like an old handkerchief. She reached out and took my hand, bringing it up so she could place the item in my hand.
"What is this mom?" I asked, looking confused.
"Your grandmother wanted you to have this. She wanted you to keep it now," she said.
I took the object and held it close to my stomach as I carefully unwrapped it. I gasped as I looked down and saw that it was the music box and then I remembered. When my grandmother had gotten sick and couldn’t get out of bed any longer, I had given the music box back to her to keep her company. But now that she didn’t need it anymore, she had given it back to me.
As I closed my eyes, I saw her face smiling at me and I knew she was truly at peace and I would have the music box to remind me of her always.