Chapter 3 : The Flute Player

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Once upon a time, there was a dream.

A dream that started from nothing, a deep dark abyss that held no recollection of memory or knowledge. That split moment when the eyes closed and the body followed shortly behind, finally giving in to the need for regeneration, was when the dream started.

A dream was much different from the imagination at night. There were some great teachers in distant lands that said if one became one with nature and allowed themselves to be connected to the earth's energy, then it was possible to control the dreams that washed over the mind each night. Some even said that dreams were visions, foreshadowings of the future and what was to come, both near and far. There were many scrolls in the great library that told of what dreams truly were. Dreams were a mystery as far as the young prince knew- and not even the wisest elder who told him that a dream simply was just a dream- could convince him of such.

Especially when the prince had a reoccurring dream. What used to happen every year or so, had become every month or even more frequent. While the images and sounds that flashed before his eyes were nothing close to the caliber of a night terror, the prince always woke up in cold sweat after the reoccurring dream.

What was the phenomenon they called a dream?

And why did it always start off dark? Why was the sound the first sense to find its way to him? The blurred sound was just like the prince's head was deep underwater, many feet deep in the dark, blue ocean waters as the waves crashed over his head repeatedly in a peaceful rhythm. Was he laying on the beach? Since when was the sound of the flute playing nearby so loud?

So many questions, so many mysteries.

It was usual for the sound of the loud ocean to be crashing in his ears like the waves were breaking right over his head and drowning him in their deep, majestic sound. Sometimes it would be freezing cold, uncomfortably so, then other times it would be so warm the coldness of the water was the only thing keeping his body from burning to ashes. The sound of the flute being played was always so far, it hadn't even been there when the dream first started reoccurring. Though as of late, the comforting sound of a gorgeous flute being played with skillful fingers by a player that had a passion for the instrument had been the subject of the young prince's dreams.

A sweet melody that left the prince tipping on the edge of rare emotions. It was a song that he had never heard outside of the dream, an ancient song the prince knew was not of the lands in which he was born. It was luring, so addictive to where the prince wished he could move and look for the gorgeous flute player. Though in the dream, he could not feel his body, there were no limbs or body attached to his conscience- it was just him and his sense of thought.

The prince could only stare up at the sky above him, the bright sun shining down hotly against his wet skin. Sometimes it was a night sky and sometimes the sky was just waking up and holding the paintbrush in hand to paint the glorious colors of a sunrise. Though, just like always, there were days when the sky was bright and very awake, the sun high in the sky. That was the only time the prince could stare up at the sun and its long rays would not melt his eyes. The way it burned right before him was as addicting as the flute player that the prince guessed was only a few feet from him.

It was agony not being able to move to see who was playing the flute, the prince feared that perhaps this person could grant him something he always dreamed of having. And if not, then he figured it was someone that could change his life for the better, just like the song that was stuck in his head days after the dream ended. The crashing waves that were so near yet so far would drown out the sound sometimes, and as of late, the sand that the prince laid on had turned to rough wood under his back.

mea rosa aurea || seongjoong || ATEEZWhere stories live. Discover now