Prologue: IN THE END

60 2 0
                                    

PROLOGUE

~~In the End~~

"Music is the one incorporeal entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends mankind but which mankind cannot comprehend."---Ludwig van Beethoven

An identical snowflake to another white fleck is unheard of, not a single snowflake is the same. Every single one has its own unique, extremely intricate design...some with jagged crystalline edges, some softer, smoother. Without the aid of a microscope, the snowflake appears cold, void of anything interesting, void of intricacy. The microscope is the tool that will reveal to the one who desires to know-to see deeper-what actually is. The naked eye, unassisted by this tool is crippled, it is deceitful in its blindness to say the least. Ah! But with such a tool, a wise man can actually see that which is exquisite and beautiful, that which the rest of the world woefully misses. He sees that which is one among billions and billions and billions, and his mind is boggled. He realizes the frailty of such uniqueness-for once it is gone, there will never be another like it again. So, that inquisitive mind of the one who sought the hidden, the microscopic, is left with a certain void, a sadness at that which will never be again...for it is dead...and the world is a little emptier with its loss.

That is how she was. Emanuella was unlike all others. Even though she was only one amidst countless others who could have caught your eye, if your eyes only had the tools to clearly see, to really see, you would have seen that she was breathtaking. My naked eyes were unforgivably deceitful, blinder than any blind man could possibly be. She was a snowflake designed for me, designed to capture every inch of my heart, soul and mind...and how did I treasure such beauty? I didn't. Not even for a moment. I rejected that pure and beautiful design for another--for a counterfeit.

Now here I stand, my mind and heart and soul is finally able to understand because it is now equipped with the microscope of the strongest kind that I did not then possess. I caught only the slightest glimpse before she melted away from my grasp and that tiny glimpse filled every empty, cold part of me. For those few moments I was not an empty void and if she had lingered a second longer I would have burst, unable to withstand her radiance...though I will burst without her presence still. My snowflake is gone. My world is void-an endless, deep, deep abyss. Terror fills that once radiant space.

I stand vigil over her pure, white, lustrous coffin, knowing with unbearable certainty that I am the one who brought about her end. Her story is all that remains of her...words, deeds, love that will not soon be forgotten. You will come to see that it is a story unlike any other. It is the story of her relentless pursuit of me. The more she pursued me, the blinder I became. That story that I will divulge ends here, with me standing before this ornate coffin. It shouldn't have ended, she shouldn't have traded her life for mine. With this thought I shiver and I feel my soul on the verge of becoming savagely wild.

Her story is a fast paced symphony, written meticulously for me. Surely Ludwig van Beethoven must have had someone like Emanuella in his heart as he composed The Fifth. So, bear with me if you will, dear sibling, as I tell all that you must know. Yes, I say you must know. Perhaps you'll see that she was a beautiful symphony with all the highs, lows, pauses, long low notes that chased one after another and then finally entered eternal silence...the silence she left behind when she finished playing each mesmerizing note. Perhaps you will learn what I did not. Here then is the story of my Symphony, my beloved Snowflake.

The Fifth-A Living Parable Series-Where stories live. Discover now