Twisted Strings [MONSTER EDITING - Read at your own risk]

Looks tells Lies

3. Looks tells Lies

''Anything else dear?'' The shopkeeper with greying hair asked me when I placed the groceries in front of him. I glanced back to see if Rhodes needed anything, but he had disappeared somewhere else. Sighing, I turned back,

''Nope, this will do.'' He nodded and began to ring me up. Dad wanted to make pasta for dinner tonight and we were short of almost all ingredients, thanks to which I was stuck with grocery shopping. Rhodes wanted to buy some DVDs and said he was going to accompany me. It took us half an hour to get everything and now he was gone. The DVD store was across the street, and he was probably there.

I paid the bill and the shopkeeper placed the noodles and the vegetables in the paper bag before handing them over to me.

''Tell Max that we just got the new brand of coffee, if he wants to give a try.'' He said as I turned to leave for home,

''Sure, I'll let him know.'' I chimed, waved over my shoulder and headed out. The weather had gotten a lot better in just an hour, the sun had gone down and the evening sky was painted in blue and pink. A light breeze made the trees rustle and I brushed back the loose strands of hair from my face.

The streets were empty now of the day, since most people and tourist liked to visit the central town for the night. We had been there countless times, and it always seemed that night hours transformed the middle of Lakesville into something else entirely. There would be lights everywhere, people on the streets, music blaring from the night clubs and street food vendors in every corner. Dad didn't like the noisy nights though, he preferred the quietness of our neighborhood, but Rhodes and I loved it.

Speaking of Rhodes, he was still not getting out of the DVD store. From the pavement, I saw his silhouette, he was moving between the aisles, taking his time. He turned for a moment and I signaled him that I was heading home.

On my way, I hugged the grocery bag and shivered from the cold air. Should have worn something to cover my sleeves. From the market, our street was ten minutes away, so I liked to walk there. There had been rare times when I walked alone, Rhodes was almost always with me.

I passed the boat house and then the sea side café, probably the most crowded place in the town. The lake that was built there was big and there was a small wooden platform that led to it, people liked standing there, some would set up chairs to read. Some loved throwing in seeds for the ducks. There was a wooden fence on both sides that was mostly for those who wanted to stay behind and enjoy the view. The whole lakeside was surrounded by clear green grass and maple trees. A few vendors here and there. Tonight, there was no one.

I leaned against a bridge from where you could see the boat house and the lake, to wait for Rhodes. With the fairy lights they had hung over the wooden shack and the bridge, it looked serene and beautiful. It was the sort of night that made you want to sing.

And just like that, I heard music. At first, I thought I was imagining things but when I listened closer, I was sure that someone else was there. The sound of the flute was vague and a little far, but when I started walking in the direction, it cleared. The music was melodious, a harmony between sorrow and wistfulness – it reminded me of heavy rain and the scent of wet soil. I couldn't pin down exactly what the instrument was, but I could tell for sure it was a flute of some sort.

Someone was sitting alone on a bench; their outline was visible against the night. I inched closer to get a better look of their face and I halted. It was an all too familiar face. Oliver Parker.

My breath hitched at the sight of him, and my feet refused to move. My mind asked me to leave right away, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was playing the flute like an expert and it was beautiful. Whimsical and faraway. Even when I wanted to move, the music kept me frozen on the spot. I looked on, unabashedly.