The same melody had been playing in my head for years.
The tinkling of the keys combined with the cadence of the violins and soft percussion racing towards a crescendo. Arcing. Twirling. Running. Diving. Gliding. Rising. Falling. I could see it in my mind's eye as I went to sleep at night. As I ate my breakfast every morning. As I wished that I was dealt a slightly better hand in life.
The notes constantly whispered to each other chaotically in my head. Both dissonant, yet symphonic at the same time. A beautiful, organised, chaotic energy that breathed through every inch of His very being. A sound that came so close to perfection, but never quite attaining it.
Nothing could ever come close to replicating it.
But I wanted to achieve the impossible.
With every rising beat I could see the extension of his limbs as he soared through the air. His very essence embracing the cold that empowered him. With every extension and flourish, I could trace his movement as he reached to touch the unattainable. Reaching to hold onto that something he was looking for that was always out of his grasp. Something that was almost as much a figment of his own imagination as I was to his memory.
As my fingers glided across the keys, his blades glided across the translucent surface; echoing each of my movements in a symbiotic pairing. A two step that only we could complete.
It had been years since I felt that same cold wind on my face.
My body no longer allowed me to move alongside him. My body broken way before its time. But this. This would let me do the impossible. With each note. Each beat. Each soft trill, I can join him in his realm one last time. To rejoin him in that world he had created. In that world where all we had to do was be. Two souls dancing closely, never more than an inch apart. Antonymous in action. Synonymous in intent.
One last time.
The voices in the background are mere static compared to the notes singing in my head; carrying me along on my final journey as I make my way to him. Sounds superimposing over the monotony that he currently moved. Granting him life without giving him a clue. The need to search for him. Find him. Bring him back home. Something I always did, became something neglected as distance kept us alone.
I feel the music building, gaining speed, as I reach the crescendo. The final breath before the end. The final movement.
Arms drawing back.
Fingers reaching out.
Clasping. Grasping. Almost within reach.
Suddenly He falls.
The music ceases.
He doesn't get back up.
YOU ARE READING
Grow As We Go
General FictionAfter ten years, Fynegan Ashmore is finally returning home. Not with the medal he promised. Not with the acclaim to his name that he spent most of his life working towards. Instead with a severely damaged ACL, his dreams shattered, and absolutely no...
