@oakflame7176

2 years ago

Time’s Violin A sharp cry rang out from the string, wailing out like a newborn baby. The note spread through space, carrying with it a purifying wave of life. A second rang out immediately after, and death swept across the land. Tears rolled down the violinist's face, mourning more than just the loss of countless lives. More notes followed the first two, encompassing myriad emotions. A young child took his first steps, his parents beaming with joy and pride. Another note struck, and time flew past quickly. Hard times fell upon the young family, but they stuck together, forging an even stronger bond. One more note; the boy was now a young man. He followed his father out trading, meeting a young woman who enchanted his heart. A cry of heartbreak sounded from the violin, and another tear ran down the face of the performer. The young man returned home with his new companion and father, only to find his mother had passed while they were away on their travels, gripping the group with despair. The violinist's arm trembled, but she couldn't stop the song. The young man married his love while his father settled down, sadness gripping the aging man as he sat alone. The violin's notes played out slower, observing as the father's age grew and his health waned. A sharp, happy note struck out! A child was born of the couple, the grandchild bringing new light into the aging man's life. Slowly, slowly. The song faded, trying to hold on to the fading life of the elder. Snap! Tears streamed down the violinist's face as she furiously pounded her bow into the strings, accelerating the tragedy occurring before her. The new child grew quickly, becoming a fine young woman after just a few notes. The violinist wanted to stop, to slow down. To watch let this girl live and explore the world, to have countless adventures of her own. The song... had to go on. The young woman aged further, bidding farewell to both of her own parents before finding a partner of her own. Why? Countless more notes poured out from the violin's cradle, life and death flicked past the performer's tearful eyes. Why does this cycle have to continue? More notes, and life sped past once again. An endless cycle of growth and decay, orchestrated by the heartbreaking notes thrown forth by a single instrument. What is the meaning of this endless tragedy? Endless rivers of love, loss, and betrayal streamed past the lonely violinist, each emotion bringing tears to her eyes. And endless cycle of joy and despair; neither lingering in the air, each swept away by the next note. With each note, her emotions slowly began to fade. Birth, love, war, famine. The tears that had once stained the musician’s cheeks faded away, replaced by a dull palor. Maybe… there is none. A young man went off to war with his brothers. One note later, the once joyful young man hobbled back to his hometown, alone and propped up with one leg and a crutch. His elderly parents wept, before passing away a few notes later. The man never found joy, instead living out his lonely life deep in the woods. A bit of sadness pierced into the violinist's cold heart as she watched someone feel that same loneliness. The lonesome man slowly grew old, and his end approached. He had never sired any children and didn't gather any friends throughout his life. But... at least there is an end for him. Watching the old soldier, she knew that the next note would be his last. A new sound broke out like a thunderclap, and the nearly forgotten emotions rushed back into the musician’s head. Lying on his deathbed, the old soldier looked up into a set of deep violet eyes. I… what?!? My knuckles tightened around the violin as I stared at the old man laying in front of me. Understanding flashed through the old soldier's eyes as he gazed back up into my timeless eyes, a hint of pity surfacing in his gaze. "Thank... you." A lonesome tear ran down my face, leaving a cold trail in its wake. My hand twitched, and another note struck out. The song moved on. Tears flowed from my eyes nonstop, but I forced myself to keep them open. To witness this world before me, to understand.

87 |