Beautiful, Lonely Music
Color flickers across the mind like strands of light, barely visible, yet some of the most beautiful things ever seen. Ghosts in the night, shimmering as if there is nothing else in the world. Bright colors; blue, green, yellow, hints of red...against a sky of black darker than night.
That is the first sight as the cello sounds its brilliant melody, sad and lonely in the evening air of the empty house. Though his strong fingers play, his arm pulling back and forth slowly to let the tune filter through the walls, his blind eyes see not, and his ears hear not. He is in his own world, seeing those beautiful colors, hearing their voices as a world begins to appear before him. There are no names to this world; simply music. Beautiful, lonely music.
A meadow appears with soft grass as high as his waist swaying in the light breeze. The dark sky is now lit with a beautiful silver moon that seems to smile upon him. Flowers begin to bloom, white petals opening to reveal the magic of the night. Wisps of a brilliant, shimmering blue begin to soar to him happily, singing the same tune he now plays through the walls of the empty house, touching his face: his lips, his nose, his ears, his cheeks...and his eyes. Those sightless eyes that can now, somehow, see.
How is it possible?
Is it that beautiful, lonely music?
He steps forward, smiling as the sights are taken in. His hands brush along the tips of the grass that sways before him like a pool of gentle caresses. Just as he remembers. The moon casts a haze of silver that blocks all things evil in the night. And standing strongly before him, beckoning with open branches, is a grand willow, high and mighty. Nothing can be better. It, too, dances to that beautiful music. That music that brings the sights of night.
The cello plays higher, stronger, than before. The wisps follow behind him as he takes another step, and another, towards the great willow. As he steps ever closer, the branches seem to dance with the same ghostly colors that began this journey. As if the tree is not just a tree, but a creature all its own. The weeping branches begin to sway and dance like a great ghost as the door to the empty house opens, then closes gently, and footsteps travel beside him to let gentle fingers brush his cheek. His fingers continue to dance across the frets, making more of the beautiful, lonely music.
Then, those steps make their way a few paces over, and she seats herself at the grand piano, closing her eyes and beginning the harmony to his own music. As the keys begin their sounds, her eyes close, and the colors begin to form in her own mind. Not like his - ghostly and transparent - but more colorful, full of life. She sees them better, but does not hear them. Though her fingers dance like magic across the heavy keys, she will never hear their grand sounds. She will only feel them...only see them.
And yet, that music blends so perfectly.
Those vibrant colors begin to take shape, and she is suddenly within his world, staring at that ghostly tree. The tiny wisps make their way to her now, smiling and singing the harmony to his tune in perfect unison as they touch her as they did him. Her lips, nose, cheeks, eyes...and her ears. She can hear, if only for now. And as the music drifts to her, carried upon the wind, she cannot help but smile and follow towards the tree.
For her, this tree does not look like a ghost. Instead, it is a creature of wisdom, glowing almost like a star, smiling with a timeless gaze at the sky.
How is it possible?
Is it that beautiful, lonely music?
Together...yet alone?
She manages her way to him, touching his hand as their music dances in the nightly wind. Together, they make their way to the tree, seeing the same thing in two different perspectives. Two minds...together as one.
The music slows, separates into two melodies that seem to intertwine as their fingers do. The branches of the great willow brushes against their skin in a caress that makes them both smile, separately happy, neither truly realizing the other is there. Together, yet alone.
They dance through the soft grasses as the wisps take up the tunes they play through the empty house. The silvery light begins to fade as darkness once more begins to take over. Slowly, the great meadow becomes nothing more than that grand tree swaying in the breeze. The wisps slowly begin to disappear into the darkness, becoming nothing but color and sound. Ghostly for one, lively for another. Then, as if it is nothing but a memory, the tree, too, begins to fade into a bright color that sways to the ever-slowing music. They disappear from each other, never truly acknowledging that the other was there until it is too late, becoming nothing more that that beautiful music that fills the empty house. Blackness takes over once more. He becomes sightless; she becomes soundless but for those strong fingers.
And yet, that music continues to play. Once more intertwining into one lonely tune. Never do they miss. And when the tune finally closes, they both let out a sigh and begin again, once more entering a world all their own, together, yet alone.
How is it possible?
Is it that beautiful, lonely music?
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Originally Posted by Dudel
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