Violin

Violin

In a storm of light and thunder
Circumstance tears two hearts asunder
Where once two blissful souls were linked
Now fester two hearts black as ink
Desire twisted, love to regret
Affection warped to panicked dread
The dying echo of violin’s melody
Still haunting through their memory

The lilting notes of the violin drifted through the trees, the starlight glittering in the nocturnal darkness. Soft shadows swirled, dancing from the branches of one pale, bone-white tree to the next. Ash-black leaves fluttered in the breeze, motes of ghostly white light danced through the clearing.

The violin played on, the bow strumming the chords with the vigor of forgotten passion, coaxing a Siren’s song from the strings. The melody was a cry for help, a searching call, seeking out one forgotten soul among so many others. It pleaded the pale fingers of death to release their vice-like grip, letting the shades that heard it cross the frigid waters of the Acheron, back to the realm of light and warmth.

Stradivarius played on, eyes closed, letting the music flow. Once, the song had kindled the flames of love, now he hoped the melody would call back the ashes of what had been, repair his mistake, return to him what had been lost...

His mind drifted back to memory, past the grey veil of the present, returning to when they had been happy, when they had been together. Music had been their passion; music had brought them together in a time when love was nothing but a contract, an agreement between two families.

Ultimately, music had ripped them apart. Mephistopheles had torn through the strongest of bonds, using not infernal claws or stygian weapons, but the innocent shape of a violin… he held the instrument now, the dark wood rippling under his fingers, the carvings of pain and suffering both delicate and repulsive. Black ichor dripped smoking from the instrument, staining the decayed vegetation with regret.

The violin that had coaxed false feelings stronger than reality, the violin whose melody could once play the hearts and souls of humankind like pulling on a puppet’s strings, was now powerless. The instrument of shadows had separated them, but could never bring them together once more, for greed and jealousy still festered in their hearts. It had always been designed for chaos, and even the soft notes of his pain and regret would never mend the rift he had torn between them.

In the fields of Asphodel, Stradivarius plays on, hoping for the notes to call his one love back, hoping that the long-forgotten tune will awaken the sleeping shade.

He would never know that the soul he yearned for was walled in.

Forever trapped, in his violin.