Sweet Melodies
The softest, sweetest sound wafted throughout the halls. As in a
waking dream, I moved down the corridors. I could hear the pure music
floating about me, traveling into my mind, my heart, and my soul. It
reverberated, allowing itself to seep further into me until there was
no escaping it. Not understanding but not denying it, I continued on
my journey toward the source of the music. It was like nothing I'd
ever heard before. So kind and cruel at once, fast and then slow. It
paced itself so that its rhythm met with my heartbeat and we became
one. An insatiable urge to hear more gripped me as I forced myself to
move more swiftly. Everything around me was a blur. All I heard was
this beautiful music engulfing me.
I came to the door, a tall, white structure. Pushing it open,
I peered into the room. The site I beheld was breathtaking.
There she stood, her arm moving serenely over the violin, her
eyes shut tight in deep concentration, though at once she seemed
utterly at ease with herself and her surroundings. The music was now
louder and harder, beckoning me forth still. I moved into the room,
realizing that I had never before seen anyone in such a trance as she
was. Her red lips were shut tight in a solemn line that almost
smiled, yet did not quite reach that point. Her raven black hair cast
a slight shadow on the left half of her face, hiding part of her
expression. I could not read her, but even with her eyes shut and her
mind occupied, I felt that she could see right through me.
With a few more steps I approached as closely as I dared,
stopping a little ways from her in order to better appreciate her
sensual beauty and talent. Her hands were swift, her gestures
meaningful. She was the epitome of perfection. A classic loveliness,
so divine as the music reached into her own soul. Someone once so
cold and dispassionate was all at once filled with sensations. The
violin resting against her cheek was a way to allow those sensations
to flow freely without words or thoughts.
I did not blink, nor did I make a sound as I admired her. Her
posture, her soft, pale skin, her delicate features, and her sublime
majesty enraptured me. I wavered, my knees becoming weak. I could
barely keep myself upright as I studied her. If ever before I had
felt the heavy blow of desire, it had been nothing compared to this.
She was all which I wanted to be, an Angel among mortals.
"Sylia..." I let the name break from my lips. She cracked her
eyes open, gazing in my direction as I stood there, waiting for her
response. She gave none. The bittersweet song did not cease, nor did
her fluid motions. Her regal pose was unaltered, no signs that she
had heard me beyond the opening of her eyes.
She saw me, I realized, but she continued to grant me her
music. Something I doubted anyone else had ever seen. I knew a side
of her that was a mystery to all others. The innocence, desperation,
and loneliness behind the angelic creature. Sylia Stingray.
I awoke from the dream, staring up at my ceiling and wondering what
had occurred within the confines of my mind. I had admitted to myself
that I loved her, and she had admitted to me that she did not despise
me. I had learned so much in that imitation of life. There was no
mutual love, I thought with a heavy heart. Only a silent
understanding.
Maybe that was enough.
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