CHOICE

Shattering the silence

[EDITED]

Chapter 1 (please play the media link) 

Here I was wandering in the garden, on a warm night, trying to recall where I left my diary. Stupid diary. I get it; the diary is not blame. I took the diary into the garden. I like writing my day's events surrounded by nature, on the little wooden bench beside the geraniums Mom had toiled over. Lately I've been very distracted because of the sleepless nights. It started when I began having some very vivid and absurd dreams that left me drained and morose throughout the day. My frantic search stalled when I felt the warm wind brush against my skin, like a loving touch. I sighed softly, as I felt my stress dissipate and a strange sense of contentment evaded my brain. My fingers tingled with excitement, just like when the school bully fell on his face.

'Maybe, I am inhaling someone's marijuana smoke...' I jolted up from my weird sense of paradise as this thought whispered in my mind. Could that be it? I narrowed my eyes and looked around for any strange figures around in the dark. The diary can wait till daylight. It was never there when I wanted it anyway. Weed or not, I wanted to enjoy this sense of euphoria that was flowing through me, mingled with the smell of freshly mown grass and pine. Spending all my seventeen years in this earth, enjoying the sun and the heat California had to offer, I loved this subtle warmth. This breeze just felt welcoming, divine and familiar. Back in Manhattan, fresh air was rare. Even after two years in Ireland, I still couldn't help but gasp with sheer wonder at the greenery that made the landscapes breathtaking. I closed my eyes as memories of California swept through me. I loved every minute of my life here, in sweet Flettelle, but I missed the sunny beaches and the golden tan. I missed the surfers and the hippies who try to sell crystals and dream catchers. I sighed. I never could have enough, could I? The half moon was exceptionally majestic tonight. Millions of stars sprinkled across the sky as if someone had haphazardly strewn them. The sky, as black as the ink I wrote my diary with, was cloudless. The tranquility around me started to lull me into a daze when the silence shattered.

I perked up and listened intently to the Celtic melody. (Please play the media to live through the scene).The violin strung up the notes so exquisitely that goose bumps invaded my skin, sending a chill down my spine. I rubbed my arms to console myself from the inexplicable sorrow that replaced the peaceful contentedness I felt earlier. My heart started to ache; a slow but steady pain, like it was missing a piece. My eyes stung from the tears that was building up and threatened to slide down my cheeks. I was amazed at the reaction this violinist managed to evoke from me with his/her music. I literally felt the immense hurt of the musician. Loneliness carved deeply within the artist's soul, flowing gracefully into the music. The violinist entranced me; his divine gift of music should be appreciated by scores of people with standing ovation. Without my awareness, I held in a sob. Realization struck me when I touched my cheeks that were definitely wet with tears. Who is this strange, super powered being who made me weep? It shocked me to learn how vulnerable we are, when we confront our own feelings in the works of others.

I cursed to myself, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, and stood up to leave when the music came to a halt. I grew a little nervous. Why did it stop when I got up to leave? Was someone watching me? My heart was thudding against my ribs. Despite the soothing, warm breeze I felt minutes back, I felt cold and defenseless. My stupid diary can wait. I am going to tear it apart when I find it. Bad diary. I trudged angrily on the grass, towards the back door. I was going to turn the door knob when the melody conquered the air again. This time, the music did not speak of heart break or sorrow, but it urged me not to go. It pleaded me to stay. It was so hypnotic that I entertained the idea of going to find the violinist. Looking back at the dark woods that gloomily fenced the garden, I rubbed my temple and rationalized my wandering thoughts.