A Promise Across Time [Completed]

Unwritten Melody

September 1964
Sweden

FRIDA

I went home feeling dejected. The crisp autumn air did little to lift my spirits as I walked the familiar streets, my thoughts weighed down by frustration. The song we had been working on for weeks hadn't progressed at all. Every attempt to craft the perfect melody felt hollow, as if I were grasping at something just out of reach. And the clock was ticking.

This song wasn't just any song—it would be the one I performed in the upcoming national contest. A contest that could change everything for me. I had poured my heart into the process, but no matter how hard I tried, the right words and notes eluded me. I was beginning to feel the pressure as the contest loomed closer, and the fear of failure gnawed at me.

I let myself into the apartment, the familiar creak of the door barely registering as I slipped inside. The warmth of home felt oddly distant, even as I shrugged off my coat and tossed it onto the nearby chair. Grandma Arntine was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared dinner. The scent of rosemary and roasted vegetables filled the air, but I barely noticed. My mind was too preoccupied with the song—or rather, the lack of one.

"You're back early," Grandma said, glancing over her shoulder. "How did it go today?"

I sighed heavily, leaning against the doorframe. "Not great. The song's still not there. I don't know what to do. The contest is only a few weeks away, and at this rate, I'll have nothing to perform."

Grandma wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face me, her eyes filled with sympathy. "You've been working so hard, Frida. Maybe you need to take a step back, give yourself some time to breathe."

I shook my head. "I can't afford to take a break, Grandma. This is too important."

The weight of my own expectations pressed heavily on my chest. I had come so far, and this contest could be my big break. But the song—the song that was supposed to be my ticket to success—just wouldn't come together.

As I stood there, lost in thought, an idea flickered in the back of my mind. Raven.

Raven, with her mysterious knowledge of the future. Raven, with her extraordinary gift for songwriting. I had heard her sing before, had seen the way her compositions came to life so effortlessly. She seemed to know exactly how to craft a melody that tugged at the heartstrings, as if she had a secret connection to the music itself.

Surely, Raven could help. With her insight, she could provide material that would guarantee my success. Maybe she even knew songs from the future that would blow the judges away, something no one had ever heard before.

But a wave of hesitation washed over me. Asking for her help felt like crossing a line, like cheating. I had always prided myself on working hard for what I achieved, and relying on Raven's unique abilities felt like taking the easy way out.

Still, the temptation gnawed at me. What if Raven's help was the only thing standing between me and winning the contest? I was so close—closer than I had ever been—and the thought of letting this opportunity slip through my fingers was unbearable.

I headed toward the living room, where Raven was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, flipping through an old book. She looked up when she saw me, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Hey," she said, her tone light. "How was your day?"

I hesitated, standing in the doorway. "It wasn't great. The song... it's just not working."