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5.10.2015

Short Story: "The Siren's Violinist"

"Stormcaster" by EmberRoseArt via DeviantArt

The Siren's Violinist
By: Eve Estelle

     In the halls of Castle Blaire, a heavenly tune can be heard drifting through the otherwise silent corridors.. A haunting melody that bears the weight of a thousand souls.

     Darkened skies loom above the black waters of Lake Ire, whose fury roars in the waves crashing upon the rocky shore. Lifeless these white sands seem, since no birds dare fly in such gusty winds, and no sea creature dares breach the surface in fear of being swept onto shore. But footprints, a single, long trail of them, are proof that there will always be those who find beauty in darkness, even in a landscape such as this that appears so dire and gloomy.
     The feet that walk and dent the sands belong to a lonely woman of fair height, whose garments flow behind her in a stream of black silk. She walks as if time itself had slowed, each step taken with care as she looks out at the furious sea.
     Behind her, not far in the distance, sit the old walls of Castle Blaire, erected some three-hundred years ago by a skilled stonemason of unknown name and origin. Cracks and small pieces of falling rock debris plague the castle, but still it stands tall and daunting in the stormy surroundings, tempting passersby with its mysterious allure.
     The woman breathes in the air of the storm, the mist of the breaking waves; she listens to the clash of power between solid, unmovable stone and the energy within the seething water; she watches the dark clouds drifting past, and feels the fresh, cold air they bring. Alone, with no mocking voices, no words uttered.
     Her head turns toward the small castle, and her gaze towards the tower, where a sound as gentle as the whispering wind, as elegant as life, captivates her ears. The music was enchanting, and each note was filled with the emotions of existence; there is no heart that could hear it and not feel drawn to its source, which remained unseen despite her searching eyes.
     How could someone play so perfectly? For a moment, she just stands there as she listens; until finally, she takes a step forward to continue on her way. Stopping again, she glances around the dark and stormy beach, and back at the tower. It feels as though something is pulling her—an urge she just can't resist. She must find out who is playing that beautiful music.
     She abandons her previous course, and steps onto the grass from the sands. Her eyes fix onto the old castle, and she carefully makes her way through the soft grasses and hard pebbles to the small flight of stairs that lead further into the lightless structure. Thunder booms out over the water, and the constant waves can be heard crashing into the stone-breakers with such force that water is sent soaring a few dozen feet into the air; but the graceful songs of the skillful player cast out the fear and the worry, until all that remains is a desire to discover the source behind the heavenly music.
     A spiral staircase is all that stands now between the woman and her goal. She feels only the pull of curiosity as she slowly climbs through the musty stairwell; the music is close, and soon she finds herself in the open air once more, emerging onto a large, stone balcony. Seven thick pillars encircle the balcony, holding up the large domed roof, all of which were made from the same dark stone.
     Looking around, she sees nothing but a violin and its bow leaning against one of the pillars straight ahead of her. A puzzled expression crosses her face as she searches for the source of the music, which she is sure is coming from the balcony. She steps closer, and listens; the sound is one from a violin, but here sits the instrument with no hand playing it. Blinking, she glances around once more, listening to the lovely music that seemingly has no source.
     She returns her gaze to the violin, feeling the irresistible pull drawing her closer. As if by instinct, she picks up the instrument, carefully bending down to grab the two pieces. Walking over to the edge of the balcony, she looks out over the landscape darkened by the storm's fury, and lifts the violin and its bow, her mind clearing and leaving only one purpose, one intention. A feeling of peace takes over her, as everything else slowly vanishes. And just as those before her, she begins to play the hauntingly lovely and eternal song of the Sirens.

6 comments:

  1. This is lovely and I really like that image. Deviant art has lovely photominaps!

    Corinne x
    www.skinnedcartree.com

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    1. Thank you Corinne! Yes! DeviantArt has some really amazing stuff - I'm constantly amazed (and just a bit envious) of the creative ability of the people on there. Beautiful, stunning images a lot of them make. My only complaint is that so many authors, understandably, don't want their work used anywhere.. Makes me so sad lol.

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  2. Amazing story!! Thanks for sharing!!
    Xoxo

    http://www.sweetsimpleday.com

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    1. Thank *you* for reading! I very much appreciate it ^^

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  3. beautiful story my friend,i love it...you're really good :) Happy writing.

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    1. That's sweet of you to say, Seema. :) Thank you very much.

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