Alone still not. (Xposted to theatrical_muse)
It was a sleazy roadhouse somewhere in the middle of nowhere but perfect for one wanted to shun the world. So, it was perfect for Orpheus, who was staying at the place for a month already. No one cared who he was or what winds blew him there. There was no past and no future at that place but grey, monotone days.
Orpheus played at the bar for his bed and food... and slowly, things started changing. The truckers use to visit the place stopped more often and stayed a bit longer than they did before. Guests gave a little more tip to the waiters and also got a little more smile in return. The soft, soothing voice of Orpheus had the effect on the souls dropped in the roadhouse.
Local people also visited the place and unlike the old-established custom, they left the furniture intact when they left. Slowly, the roadhouse became popular. Strange mixture of farmers, truck drivers and other migratory birds filled the bar each night. People came to have a drink or two and also to find a moment of peace and quiet in those bittersweet melodies.
After the last of guests left the bar, Orpheus helped clean up the place then retired into his room. Alone as always.
Alone still not.
Strange dreams haunted him each night since he left the city. After the lights went out, a warm, willing body snuggled into his arms, so real still dreamlike. They were kissing and snuggling, whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ear. Orpheus found himself alone every morning, so he thought her a dream, a weird joke of Morpheus... until the night when the Hunters’ Moon light up the night sky.
“Fall is coming.” She said in low, said voice and turned away.
“Wait!” Dream-Orpheus asked and tried to catch her hand but he grabbed nothing but empty air... she has gone already.
Next morning, Orpheus found a single red rose on his pillow. He remembered the other one he found on the streets of New York... and couldn’t wait the day to be end. In vain. She did not come back that night neither on the following one.
On the third morning, Orpheus walked out of the house, his bag in one hand and guitar in the other.
“Are you leaving?” Joe, the bartender was sitting on the terrace. “It was too good to last long.” He took a sip of the can in his hand. In spite of the early hour, it was his third beer.
Orpheus looked down at the road. “I have to go.” He said quietly then gave a look to the bartender over his shoulder. “It may help.” Orpheus grinned at Joe and handed his guitar to the man. He knew the bartender was good player too and, with the help of his guitar, he could keep the guests.
Cold wind arose, chilling Orpheus' neck and making him shiver but not with cold. “The wind has changed.” He said and not bothering himself with the confused stare of Joe, Orpheus headed back to the city he came from.
Muse: Orpheus
Fandom: Greek mythology
Words: up to 500
Orpheus played at the bar for his bed and food... and slowly, things started changing. The truckers use to visit the place stopped more often and stayed a bit longer than they did before. Guests gave a little more tip to the waiters and also got a little more smile in return. The soft, soothing voice of Orpheus had the effect on the souls dropped in the roadhouse.
Local people also visited the place and unlike the old-established custom, they left the furniture intact when they left. Slowly, the roadhouse became popular. Strange mixture of farmers, truck drivers and other migratory birds filled the bar each night. People came to have a drink or two and also to find a moment of peace and quiet in those bittersweet melodies.
After the last of guests left the bar, Orpheus helped clean up the place then retired into his room. Alone as always.
Alone still not.
Strange dreams haunted him each night since he left the city. After the lights went out, a warm, willing body snuggled into his arms, so real still dreamlike. They were kissing and snuggling, whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ear. Orpheus found himself alone every morning, so he thought her a dream, a weird joke of Morpheus... until the night when the Hunters’ Moon light up the night sky.
“Fall is coming.” She said in low, said voice and turned away.
“Wait!” Dream-Orpheus asked and tried to catch her hand but he grabbed nothing but empty air... she has gone already.
Next morning, Orpheus found a single red rose on his pillow. He remembered the other one he found on the streets of New York... and couldn’t wait the day to be end. In vain. She did not come back that night neither on the following one.
On the third morning, Orpheus walked out of the house, his bag in one hand and guitar in the other.
“Are you leaving?” Joe, the bartender was sitting on the terrace. “It was too good to last long.” He took a sip of the can in his hand. In spite of the early hour, it was his third beer.
Orpheus looked down at the road. “I have to go.” He said quietly then gave a look to the bartender over his shoulder. “It may help.” Orpheus grinned at Joe and handed his guitar to the man. He knew the bartender was good player too and, with the help of his guitar, he could keep the guests.
Cold wind arose, chilling Orpheus' neck and making him shiver but not with cold. “The wind has changed.” He said and not bothering himself with the confused stare of Joe, Orpheus headed back to the city he came from.
Muse: Orpheus
Fandom: Greek mythology
Words: up to 500