Short story that I wrote at the beginning of the school-year, enjoy!
Every night was the same thing, the same melody for hours on end, the same angry shouts, and the same empty replies. It was always the same, until it wasn't. Until one night it all stopped. It felt so weird, for the routine to have been broken. Everyone was confused, scared even. Why had they stopped playing (after all those decades)? Some even went as far as to try and find the mystery house, but no one knew where the music had been coming from. And they missed it, missed the sad melodies that sang them to sleep, all their worries left aside, safe behind the surety that, tomorrow, the stranger would be there still, ready to serenade the neighborhood with their endless song filled with sorrow and longing.
It was never meant to stop, stopping meant forgetting, forgetting meant losing, and losing was the worst thing that could ever happen. Everyone wished for oblivion, but the stranger wished for remembrance. Because, the moment the melody reached its end, so would I. And you did not want to lose me. Not again.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet
Short StoryA collection of poems and short stories I write when I'm bored. Most of the themes are sad, so I hope that, in a hundred years when I'm long dead, students read them as part of their Literature lessons. XD ⚠Major character death in some stories⚠
