It was just as brilliant as her eyes.
The petals swirled and flew to the grassy hill in a graceful dance, and vanished into the soil like some kind of vapor.
Their vibrant, singing lavender mixed with the wind to create a blur of beauty. I slowly marched up to the marvelous, sacred tree and was prepared to touch its beckoning blossom wood when I was rudely awakened.
"Sebastian!" barked the cigarette-choked voice of my trollish boss, rapping his meaty fingers on my desk, "Get back to work, you idjit! I ain't payin' you to drool on your paperwork!"
I raised my head, and wiped the dried drool from off my chin. I suppose I had fallen asleep as my desk!
"Sorry, sir," I mumbled, glaring resentfully at the cheap, fake wooden desk, "I had to stay up until four in the morning to meet that quota that you-"
"I don't wanna hear it, Lark!" he growled, wagging his sausage fingers in my face (Geeze, how did he get so fat? Does nicotine make you fat?), "Just shut up and work, or payday isn't coming anytime soon for you! You hear me?" Before I could reply, he sauntered off to go spit in some other poor soul's face.
I sighed and turned to my monitor, tapping away mindlessly. My fingers moved faster than I could process. Was I even writing words? Eh, whatever. I hated this job anyway.
At least I had something to look forward to after this. Synthia (the gorgeous girl from the coffee shop) and I had finally gone on a few dates, and I thought she truly likes me, despite my awkwardness and creepy first impression. She laughed at my jokes, shared a great deal of my interests, and apped to be having a wonderful time. Things were going well between us. But there's just one problem. The piano.
It was always there, especially when I thought of her. That subtle, flighty tune from three weeks ago in the park was still here. Not only was it present nearly all of my waking and sleeping moments, but it was erupted into an ongoing masterpiece; no longer three simple notes, but a series of complex, rising and falling tones that string into a never-ending story.
The music was absolutely beautiful, but also terrifying. Where is it coming from? Why wouldn't it go away? I was afraid to go see a doctor, or some kind of shrink. Would they throw me in the nuthouse? I would, if I were them. I don't think anyone's heard music before; voices, yes, music, no.
I suppose that maybe I could just get used to-
"Alright everybody, get out of here," boomed the voice of my hefty boss, standing erect in the center of the clustered office complex, "The clocks broke so just trust my judgement. Work's done, goodbye."
As I gathered up my things and prepared to file out of the uncomfortably humid room, my heart began to beat sharply along to the ever-present song, which along with my adrenaline began to speed. A cold sweat broke out on my brow. What was I to tell Synthia? What if she left me, knowing I was probably crazy?
In a sharp ten minutes I arrived at the park. The snow had all melted by now, and the lovely glowing grass was beginning to peak out of the ground. The trees collected a few spring leaves, and the weather was officially starting to match my cheery love for Synthia. She wore her soon naturalized hair (for the mint dye was fading into a starchy blonde) in a fishtail, and had a red bow tied tight around her hairline. I strolled over to her, and complimented her bow and knee-length red dress (how many dresses does she even have?). She grinned and greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek, which sent a fluttering trill of notes through my consciousness.
"I like your shirt, Sebastian," she remarked, nodding to my graphic tee with an angry cat yelling 'You gotta be kitten me', "It's clever."
"Really?" I smirked, "I bought it because I thought it was stupid!"
We both laughed, and that annoying tune rolled around in my head. What triggers it?
Once our laughter trailed off, and silenced to half hearted chuckles and sighs, Synthia turned to me with a warm grin, her violet eyes twinkling to the happiness of her posture.
"Listen, Sebastian," she began, her cheeks glowing, "We've been going out for a while now. You left a creepy first impression, so I was quite hesitant to date you. But now I see that you are really sweet and intelligent and..."
She glanced at the ground, a smile still growing on her lips. What was she thinking?
Her head at last lifted, and her stunning eyes met mine. A cool breeze swept past us, and sent her scarlet dress aflutter. She took a step toward me, and placed her soft hand on my shoulder. Her face shined with admiration, and I'm sure mine did ten fold. She was so lovely. I could have not been prepared for what happened next.
Synthia suddenly grasped my face, and pulled it towards her own. She pressed her crimson lips against mine, and wrapped her arms around my neck. I embraced her. Her lips tasted of honey, and her skin carried the scent of lavender. As my arms were bound around her waist, and I trembled under the shock of this sudden affection, a brilliant, new song began to play. The piano keys flew sky high, and swirled in with a singing violin. They mixed together to create a masterpiece to the ears, so stunning and heart-achingly beautiful that tears dropped from my eyes and I visualized rays of gold and crimson and violet and teal falling like raindrops from the etched dusk sky. The world spun wildly around my feet, the sun embraced the moon, the stars popped and sparked like fireworks, and in this moment I realized I had never loved a woman as much as I loved Synthia.
"Why are you crying?" whispered Synthia, pulling her face back and gazing, her eyes wide with concern, "Is something wrong? Was this too sudden? I'm sorry..."
"No!" I exclaimed, tears still sliding down my cheek, "It's just... I love you, so much."
She beamed. But then she frowned."Why?" she choked.
Why? What did she mean?"Well," I started, "You are sweet. You are kind. You are beautiful. You are intelligent. You are... you. Don't you trust me when I say I love you?"
Her smile returned.
"Yes," she murmured, "Just checking."And with that she met my lips again.
YOU ARE READING
Sebastian's OrchestraShort Story
A man falls in love, but realizes something much darker and ecstatic lurks beneath his subconscious. What will he make of it? This story speaks to those who struggle to capture the things they dream of, and ties to the journey of finding creative co...