Tuning Into The Song

Toby, my new love, lies besides me.  Both on guerneys in a white, light-filled room.

His eyes are closed.  A nurse wheels in Ben, my first love, and I greet him with delight and concern.  He’s also injured.  I send a circle of love to surround him, become aware simultaneously of Toby, awake, scowling darkly, simmering in unreasonable jealousy.  And he is aiming it all at unconscious Ben. 

I gently remove the finger of smoke, seal Ben’s protection, follow the trail back to Toby.  His heart is loud with hate and fear.  I am unmoved, yet moving with calm deliberation into the blackened heart. 

He is overtaken and still I unwind the hate like music out of tune, and I the tuning fork.  Deep inside, he longs to hear the note to return, return to the song he was meant to sing. 

Dissipating. 

The electricity of his will thrumming now into a new vibration.  I lean back and close my eyes, smiling, at ease.  Something new has burst from me, my song amplified, my powers restored.

***

Written for the Saturday Stream of Consciousness prompt: Loud and this impulse to write flash fiction this morning.  SoCS rule number 1: Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write. (Otherwise, I would go back and fix some things!)

Winter’s Song

It’s a cold frosty night

on the snow-covered fields

and the trees stand so stark and bare.

Yet I stand here so gloriously happy and free

on this star-studded, blackly-etched hill.

While you all sit inside in your cozy little cabins,

I am calling through the forest, and singing to the trees.

All around me there is life,

and my heart is filled with a song 

that you could sing along with me.

I hope that I will always feel so free,

I don’t want to grow old and cease to see

all the wonder of the winter,

the shadows on the snow

and my dreams dancing softly on the cold fresh air.

I wish that you would all just look out your windows

and drink in the dark, enchanted scene.

So it’s cold, so are you

if you won’t venture out

of your cramped, little automated shells.

Come on out and dance,

it’s a beautiful night

and I promise that your dreams will come alive.

I hope that I will always feel so free,

I don’t want to grow old and cease to see.

*I wrote this song at age 15.  Still sing it when I play my guitar.