The Chime of Bluebells

2

Music. The soft tinkling from a piano. Sweet tunes. Relaxing rhythm. All the compounds of conveying tranquility, the resting place of peace to take a timeout from the buzzing everyday life. I could need some of that. Some serenity. Why? There was a long pause in between the two brain cells communicating as they worked hard to figure something out. Why did I feel like wanting a calm place to lay down for a bit? Had I recently had an exam? No. Had I had any fight with Quinnie? No, and even if that was the case, we'd work it out before leaving the room. So what was gnawing on me?

A broken heart is all that's left, I'm still fixing all the cracks.

Wait a minute, what happened to the piano?

Lost a couple of pieces when, I carried it, carried it, carried it home.

Another song was playing, although the piano was still there, in the background along with the cello—sounding lovely as usual. A song that lay close to my heart. All the upsetting feelings of songs being changed disappeared as I readied for the refrain.

My mind feels like a foreign land.

A bell rang at the back of my head.

Silence ringing inside my head.

The lyrics touched my heart. Hadn't I recently had a real bad dizziness? A little voice deep down whispered in agreement, cofirming my questions. The dizziness, the twisting pain snaking it's way through my lower belly, aching like a dull growing sting...but its source hadn't been where I first thought.

"Oh-oh-oh-ooooh, oh-oh-oh-ooooh, all I know, all I know, loving you is a losing game."

Ears on point, I listened to the low music and the somewhat lower voice of a whisper singing along in falsetto. It wasn't pretty, not at all, but I didn't believe the person behind it put much effort into it. The singing sounded more of someone multitasking, not even aware of singing along to the background music. As the voice sang along, however, the sound somehow became a little beautiful. Like a force of nature, unknowing of its existence.

"Noah," someone whispered harshly. The voice sounded strain, almost bitter. "What did I tell you?"

"Oops," the other one said, but didn't sound the least sorry, "forgot."

"No such music," she sighed, "this is suppose to be a quiet area."

"And Arcade is hard metal?" Noah asked sarcastically, then sighed. "The classical shit is getting kinda tiring. I don't think she...eh...Mag—" He seemed to struggle. "Mag-nolia? Magnolia. Her name's Magnolia? Well, I don't think Mag here cares much if it's Mozart or Duncan Laurence playing."

There was a long pause, then: "Fine. But turn it down a notch."

"It's already on the lowest pin—"

"I wasn't talking about the radio."

"Hah." I could hear the smile in Noah's voice. "Who would have thought, she has humour."

"When I want to," the woman said, her voice more delightful now. "Try to rest some."

Gentle footsteps fainted in the distance.

Magnolia. Why were the strangers talking about me? What was going on? The slight panic started rising within my chest. Where was I? The woman had said something about a quiet area. What was that suppose to mean? All I could think of was my University's library and their soundless group rooms. I loved spending time there even though there were no schoolwork to be done. Peace and quiet is the perfect atmosphere of absolute concentration and could be spent reading a novel or fiction of own self interest. Once, a girl had approached me with a note asking what course had Brisingr on their list of literature. When she realised no course did, she'd smiled awkwardly and walked away, probably thinking I was crazy for staying this late a Friday night in the library, reading for fun. But those nights didn't come painless. When it was time to leave, my legs would be numb enough to make me look like a newborn foal taking its first steps.