Life's a Melody

Presenting "A Forsaken Library"

Sinking, submerging, fully being engulfed by the deep numbingness inside once more as the darkness continues to immerse your body in it's cold, unyielding hands. You've began to get used to the sound of the harpist's song, your body has began to tune it out on accident while you drift in the dark. This continues on for what feels like hours before another sound comes to meet your ears. Thriving on it's own sound and emotions, the complete opposite of the harp's sound.
It's a low, smooth tone resonating deep within almost as if it's trying to call the Harpist out from within you. It begins to quicken it's pace, the sound of strings becoming plucked to continue within the current of emotion. Clearly the musician playing is deep in their own world as the tune everything else out. Playing how they feel instead of playing what's already been made. The song slows down after a while, and finally it draws you out of your slumber along with the Harpist, her sound that seemed to have been dwindling just a few moments ago, is now playing with the fierceness of the emotion just heard, almost as if it had been trying to turn the tables and lure out the lashing sounds of the deep instrument.
Your eyes awaken with a jolt of your body. The harp had quieted, allowing for the true sound of the instrument to pour through your head almost as if it had been honey into tea. Continuing to pulse through you, waves crashing inside of you pulling out a warm embrace of calm and delight. It's a cello. Peering around in the new terrain, a library slowly comes in focus. Books of all sizes and thickness are able to be seen gathering dust upon shelves of shelves. Soon enough that delight in your eyes had morphed into a well rounded emotion of pure wonder, rushing up to look upon the shelves, teetering on wobbly chairs and lower loose boards to see higher in the cozy room. The more you search, the more you find out that the books you're staring at have blank covers. Almost as if they're trying to entice you to unveil their secrets and let their mysteries unfold.
Reaching out, you grab a book of almost an ashy blue cover, pages torn at the edges yellowed from age and presumably hot, humid weather causing the pages to shrivel lightly. A deep breath from within and you close your eyes, the feeling of calm becomes replaced with a feeling of anticipation, you gently grip the corner of the cover, and pull it open flipping into the first page. Quickly you open your eyes and stare down upon the book in your hands, the wide smile plastered upon your face slowly diminishes into a small, futile pout as your eyebrows crease together.
The page was blank. Flipping through the book, you notice that all the pages are blank, swiftly you move onto another one from a different shelf hoping that the previous one was just a trick. The book now in your hands has a deep crimson cover, sparking your interest in perhaps a tale of horror and a murder needing to be solved, once more you take a small intake of air and flip through the pages, one by one analyzing them. Blank once more. A soft, unbelieving laugh escapes from you, chortling in a sense of discomfort and annoyance. Staring at the pages, looking for any traces of words, marks, perhaps even a statement, or some type of ink. But it's not. Nothing is there, on any page, no page numbers, no chapter headings, no titles, no names, not even a shred of character development had been formed, seen, traced on any pages within not just that book, but several others. Each with their own covers, an arrangement of books tossed to the ground in your disheveled anguish, a long sigh of tormented curiosity burning at the tips of your ears forces itself out from within you as you lean back in a rather comfortable loveseat.
The brown leather practically glistening in the fire's orange glow, as the white stainless carpet draped upon the sitting arrangement around the moderately large cobblestone fireplace. The curtains drawn shut, the warm ceiling lights giving off a different type of warm glow, almost as if showing a presentation of your wrath. No matter how well the room was furnished, you couldn't seem to lift the feelings within you. As you dwell upon your feelings, you feel the air tense up, the cello begins to play low, deep notes. As if it's trying to build momentum for something, a dark resonating feeling begins to drip off of the notes, pooling around you. It speeds up, surrounding you and filling the room with intricate chords, and fancy transitions.
The pool surrounding you begins to spin, slowly at first but with each change of chord, each new note played, it speeds up. Faster and Faster, you feel your mood drop lower and lower into a fit of despair, guilt takes place of your anger as the whirlpool of seething anger is now swallowing you up whole in a maelstrom. Softly, the harp song resigning within you begins to play. Calm, yet confident within its own ability to calm the storm of the cello. A quiet and resigned melody seems to amplify itself in emotion, quite a contrast with the cello, which is playing to its own beat, and playing as loud as needed for the point to get across. The two sounds clash together as your body continues to drift along in the swirling storm, Cello overpowering Harp, both fighting to be heard over the other, both fighting with their music to express what's in need of expressing. You can see the tables shift slowly yet surely. The Harp is lulling the cello to slow down, and trying to convince the cellist to quiet down softly. As the transitioning had occurred, your mind had began to race between thoughts, dreams, ambitions you've once held in the past.
How you've wanted to achieve so many different things, and how you wanted to see so many new places. Closing your eyes, re-imagining yourself in the library, you could feel the tone of the music change. Both the harp and the Cello had combined into a peaceful melody, a song of support and tranquility ricochets off of the walls, the ceiling, the floorboards, and all of the books and returns back to you. Grabbing one of the books you had thrown to the ground in your dispute of blank pages you found that on one of the barren pages a word had arisen. "The key to" sprawled out in an intricate fashion on just a mere two pages had caused your stomach to rise into your throat. Nerves were beginning to eat away at your senses as you grab another book and search, a new phrase in the book had been seen. "Finding the forsaken" You question quietly to yourself "What is a 'Forsaken'?" peering around the room, thinking what book to try next, you grab the original ashy blue book.
Peering into it you see more lines of text than the other two "between me and the boards, left hand side surrounded by wood, protected by metal" You scrunched up your face, confusion taking over you. Grabbing the crimson book hoping it would give you more information, the cello seemed to be supporting you. Opening the book to the center page, you see the same intricate lettering sprawled out more smaller "is to look" you turn the page, seeking the next clue "said metal needs said key, to find me, you must search for the key!"
A louder, more external sigh escaped from your lips as you decided to play along with the book's guidance. The cellist seems to be cheering you on softly with their low, yet satisfying notes. Strolling around the room, examining each and every shelf of books, and every corner there could be.
Time passes by as your mind begins to drift a bit and wanders off trying to decipher the code that are the clues. You continue to walk, that is, until you trip over a large desk. The turmoil of your trip had caused you to roll over, onto the other side of the desk. Where you had found a lock, on a drawer. Your eyes just seem to gleam in joy at the new discovery.
Until it clicks. You still needed to find the key. You force yourself off of your lower half and onto your knees, staring at the ground you saw that a floor board had shifted in a way floor boards are not to be shifted? Picking up the heavy wooden board, you found, much to your liking. What seems to be a journal. Holding onto the smooth yet weary leather, you peeled it off of the pages. A gentle hold on the covering as you flip through the pages with ease, until you hit the center pages to find a key shaped hole had been cut into it, and within you find sitting, embellished inside of the hole a key was sitting there.
You jolted awake. All had been calm as your senses reawakened, the storm that had been surrounding you was gone, your negative emotions washed away. Realizing what needs to be done, you hurriedly rushed over to the desk you found in your dream, and opened the floor board, flipped through the journal, ripped out the key, and swiftly opened the lock. The moment of truth, what ever lay inside of this drawer would lead you right where you needed to be. A long, anticipation laced sigh escapes your lips as you pull out the drawer, looking inside you find the contents. To your surprise it was a journal, holding onto the weathered leather, the brittle paper folding lightly between your fingers grip as you brace yourself, opening the journal to the first page. The cello playing softly takes hold of your ears, and causes you to sway with it's melody. Looking down to the page, almost unreadable notes can be seen having been taken from someone who might have had messy handwriting, or had actually just been in a rush you manage to find a small portion that was still readable sprawled out carefully, Left hand side of the page, old blue ink had read out "To meet me, turn to the center and find me" turning to the center pages, the pages with notes had began to glow around the corners of the dusty pages.
Light began to emit from the page as a vortex formed pulling you inside of the journal. Wind wrapping around you, hair and clothing billowing against your form relentlessly as your body gets sucked in painlessly. A bright light surrounds you, your eyes take some time to adjust to the new surroundings and the brightness. The cello feels close, a warmth enters your body as you walk into the direction of the Cello. The cellist's melody was so warm and comforting, as if they were congratulating you in their own little way, almost as if they had been supporting you through their music. Checking your surroundings again you see a silhouette a great distance away from your general area. Picking up the pace, moving into a light jog towards the cello and their tool to create such art. As you neared the Cello and its master, you noticed that the form was a tall male, the lanky build of the male had confused you slightly, though, it was hard to tell why you'd been confused upon this.
His calm demeanor had caused a soft smile to form and crease into your face. The male stopped playing and noticed you from the corner of his eye, It was hard to tell due to the hair hanging about in his face, soft chocolatey eyes seemed to melt a little from your newfound eye contact. A swift nod of acknowledgement is thrown your way as he picks up his bow and presses it lightly against the strings, A small thought begins to form at the back of your mind 'Why is it so hard to tell what he's thinking, yet simultaneously almost easy to tell how he feels?'
Slowly he begins to play again, almost as if he's asking you to leave him be. Pressing forwards you take another step closer to him curiosity envelopes your being as you place a hand amongst his shoulder. He looks up to you and flicks his hair out of his face so that he can see you more clearly. The music surrounding stops causing the "room" or so to say to go silent.
"Do you need something?" Staring down at the cellist, your mouth opens slightly and hesitates for a moment before speaking aloud "What caused you to be so reserved..?" His eyes widened as he turned his head away from you and took a breath. Inhaling deeply as if he was in midst of calming himself from traumatizing news. "The library you were inside earlier.. Used to belong to me, well it still does but it's more of an empty space to collect dust other than anything else.." Pausing the Harpist can be felt moving within you. Almost as if she's stirring her sleep due to a recurring nightmare. "Everyone would come to my library, and would borrow my books, learn new hobbies and skills and found something that they liked as much as I did.. We were all friends and we treated everyone so kindly, until one day they all just disappeared."
Head tilting, your expression practically gave away your next question "What had happen to them all? Do you know.?" Sorrowfully, he shakes his head in return, holding back the words he wanted to say. Physically being seen biting back his tongue, his eyes glazed over your form. A moment of quiet leered over the two of you, tension growing with each passing minute until, finally, he speaks up.
"Not to change the subject, but, isn't it funny to think that some people listen to music for the way it reaches out to them and provokes their emotions? Then, before you answer that question, Allow me to ask another. Isn't it funny that I listen to the same music just to drown out the emotions that have immersed themselves deep within me? To tuck away the past mistakes and their following memories and to hide the truth from deep within my life?" A droplet of water dripped from his bottom eyelash and landed delicately onto the instrument he had been leaning over. The droplet had seemed to be mocking you and your fruitless attempts to talk the cellist out of his dismay, and provide answers about his past friends. A shaky breath drew within him as he looked up to you, brushing his hair to the side, eyes drowning themselves with pain. His mouth opened as if he were trying to speak, yet stopped itself before anything came out except a breath.
Another long breath escaped as he stopped himself from stumbling on his words. Looking back up to you, his eyes had calmed lightly, though the flames that had been burning with their sorrowful passion continued to flood through the corners of his brown optics. "Why would someone even try to befriend someone as forsaken as I?" A large frown creased the sides of mouth. Thoughts flooded through your head, flooding every inch of your being, condescending plans had formed deep within you, knowing that these were all for a good cause, you knew that deep down your opinion wasn't needed for this situation. Biting back onto your thoughts, you knew that he wanted to hear something supporting despite the face he had been making at the present moment. Closing your eyes, you allowed for your lips to part one last time, softly you spoke aloud to the cellist.
"Words may have meanings, but they can lie to the heart, though, music isn't only a skill, it's a way of passion and emotion to escape and influence those around you." You inwardly winced at the thought your message sounding more creepy than you had thought. Forcing that thought aside, you allowed yourself to come in touch with the harpist, you felt a wave of pure concern hit you, followed by another wave lead with worry and guilt. Soon enough, your body had began producing it's song, morphed with the Harpist's song of misleading joy, the song came off as a very gentle, and placid tune. Though the worry and guilt was still laced within, you could truly tell what the meaning was.

...

The end of the song approached, your eyes fluttering open, you could see the Cellist's tears cascading down his cheeks, dripping onto his instrument. His voice weak, and holding back sobs he looked upon your form, his hands trembling slightly as he fidgeted with one of the strings. Opening his mouth, his smooth voice was distressed and his sentences were split from small gasps and hiccups. "You truly want to know what happened?" Leaning upwards foxing his posture he raked a hand through his darkened chestnut locks, eyes desperate to find something, a hunger had been settled deep in his eyes as if he'd been withdrawn from something for too long. Finding the courage, you nodded your head. Hoping for the cellist to finally speak about his past you placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly holding it there trying to provide a subtle comfort for him.
He clearly accepted it and nodded to you in a gracious manner. Closing his eyes as he delved back to a time and place that had been a much different time than the one now, he sighed long and fully. "The library you saw earlier? That was mine. I owned, read, and allowed people to borrow those books. In return, they had to show me what they had learned from said books that they had taken out. All the books in my library are all about the arts, tips on singing, musical compositions from composers, detailed explanations of artists and their life's work I owned all of it. I made the library for them to aid them in learning something new, I had many, many friends as well! That is, until one day way back. Back to a time where people could learn and appreciate the true meaning of what the artist had created, not like now, where people only make things for the money. That day was the same as any other day, I had met with my friends, we had chatted upon their recent discoveries and made some jokes. I enjoyed their company as I started off my day filling out return sheets and running through my large quantity of books. It was a peaceful time, when suddenly everyone disappeared and I wound up here. I tried to call out to them, and I tried to do everything in my power to get them back, but nothing happened. I became so lonely, I had felt so unwanted and unneeded, to the point of where I realized that I was a forsaken soul. Even now their faces haunt me, each day i remember someone new, walking in and telling me exactly what they learned and telling me about how much they've been inspired.. And now, I can rarely talk with anyone.."
The cellist's story had made him cry further, rubbing your hand against his shoulder, you then realized something. A smiled played on the corners of your lips as you patted his shoulder one last time.
Having him look up to you you spoke aloud, in a pleased tone "I think I know someone who can help you, My friend, the harpist, she would be glad to be your friend, along with myself. You can reside within me and come with us on our journey. I'm sure you will enjoy it and I'm sure she would enjoy the new company." His chocolate eyes widened, A grin turned on his face as he propelled himself off of the chair he had been sitting in previously.
Gripping your hand he nodded swiftly as the harpist beamed within you. A large glowing light surrounded the two of you as the two of you became one. His song had combined nicely with the harp and paired well with the now fulfilling feeling within you. Opening your eyes once more, you find yourself to be in the library once more, grabbing one of the books, you flipped open a page and saw that finally, the books had words within them. Skimming a few pages as you walked along towards the chair, you set it aside knowing now that he had been correct and was truly a master of the arts, you drifted off into a deep slumber, The cold emptiness nipping at the corners of your consciousness, as the warmth from the two instrumentalists had sustained what seemed to be a ball of pure enlightenment deep within your chest.

~ Fin ~