Andrelle opened her eyes, the lids were heavy she felt that had been closed for a long time, such a very very long time, but now they were open and the world was a beautiful shimmer. Turquoise shafts of lights and rippled. The stair way seemed less defind than she remembered.

Yawning she stretched, her hair silver threads in the warming currents reminding her of that night with it’s thousand iced stars and the captain telling her she should play – for the mistress of the waves – for the ship she found herself on with all it’s glitz and glamour and same old boring expectations. Except the stars had glowed and rainbows of light had sliced the sky and she had known that there was a perfection to be had – here, within that now. Within this moment.

The now that was playing out, unwrapping around her, yes, she needed to play, she was the star of the show after all.

She ducked a jellyfish with it’s ethereal tendrils and smiled satisfied with herself. There it was once more, her viola sitting on the seat, waiting patiently for her. She worried briefly about what the salty sea water would do to it and then forgot it all as she ran her fingers over the silken tautness of the strings. The instrument was her world – she could make it sing!

She’d played a concert or maybe a few already hadn’t she? For the ship? For the captain, for the sea. The memories of notes danced before her and she swayed, her dress billowing like tattered tendrils of sea weed.

But before the thoughts could snatch at her and catch within her mind she scooped up the little wooden music maker. It glowed in the murky milk light of the depths and she played. Oh boy did she play and she remembered those who had danced.

And they were there again dancing, as it was this day, always this day, again and again, like that day with the stars and warmth and ribbons of light that wrapped around them. Sealing time.

Something had happened – hadn’t it? She felt the music falter and the people the dancers flickered, she could not let them fade, so she played, and played and played.

And it was always the same day, this she knew in her bones, the bones that held the instrument and the skull face that was hers to turn to the sky and she could not dwell on it for how does bone press the string down? How does it not reverb with the vibrations and still the music?

Her music carved out the patterns of existence, she remembered them, they swirled like a miniature coral reef. Round and around, so much colour and richness.

The dancers nodded too her as they passed, in they coats and dresses and attire of wealth and status – this was for them, it always was for them.

Soon she would fall into sleep once more and leave the wreck to the fishes until it was time to live this day – always this day. The ship was crumbling though, she tried not to think, but what would happen when it was no more – would the waves still want her to play?

The thought echoed with her music as her consciousness once more began to fade, the little undertoes and eddies caressed her to sleep. She was nothing but remains, the sea gently cradled her humming it’s own lullaby. Filling her with the endless depths of eternity.

Posted: Friday, July 1st, 2016 @ 7:59 am
Categories: Flash Fiction.
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