Tales of the Night

The Traveling Bard

You're in bed trying to sleep. It seems like you've been tossing and turning for hours, but, like always, you're not sure why. As much as you want to blame the bright moonlight shining through the window, you know you can't.

This wouldn't be the first time you've spent most of the night trying to get comfortable instead of actually sleeping. It's the same every time, and your mind insists on jumping between random topics: did you lock the front door, what do you have to do tomorrow, are you doing enough with your life, did you turn the stove off, what would you do if there was a fire right now—

You let out a frustrated groan, partially muffling it with your blanket as you pull it over your head.

The thoughts linger even under the depths of fabric, now with added warmth. You hope the newfound darkness at least helps with the illusion of night; the moon was almost as bright as the sun.

Determined, you force your eyes closed and try to clear your mind. The stuffiness under the blanket surprisingly helps drown out your other thoughts, and you focus on the growing heat and the echoes of your steady breaths.

In...

Out...

In...

Out...

In...

A single note rings out, crisp and clear.

Your eyes snap open.

While the sound echoes in your ears, your room is silent, only filled with your racing heart.

Did you imagine it? Maybe. Probably. Still, you carefully pull your blanket from your head, your eyes wide as you search the darkness.

Nothing. Your room is just as you remembered with your belongings either in the shadows or illuminated by the soft moonlight.

With a sigh, you try to get yourself settled again. After being under the covers, your eyes are unaccustomed to the bright night; even with your eyes closed, the moon's reflection on the opposite wall still manages to squeeze through your eyelids.

Before you can pull the covers back over your head, the light dims.

Your eyes open. The wall is now engulfed by a shadow—the silhouette of a person.

The shadow shifts; another note chimes.

The sound of the plucked string reverberates with your shivering spine.

As you stare at the shadow on the wall, your heart races with the strummed strings, the rising rhythm of your pulse setting the pace for the figure behind you.

And then the music stops; the metronome of your heart continues.

The shadow is still and silent.

Until another melody fills the silence: a low baritone, quiet and smooth.

"Shall I play a lullaby for you, dear?"

It's the Traveling Bard, and he has come to wish you good night.