It was as though some enigma had swept us away from the metal clanging of machinery and the rustic smell in the air; from the artificial scents that filled our veins to the countless drops of sweat that sparkled before hitting the floor, none of us had ever heard of the dream called "music" before. And it just appeared in front of us, in the center of our clan, a wistful yet cheery feeling as though the near helpless now could become the past. The mysterious being wore fabrics of nightshade and cloud with fabric that sprung from their chest like wild poppies blooming in a blank field. Her hat was different in ways we couldn't understand, it maintained the same vibrant colorless that her clothes represented. With sky eyes that could swallow the world if she so pleased and crystal hair that strung for miles, she played something that produced sound after sound wave of mythical illusions which I couldn't comprehend farther than her pleased notions about the break in white noise that she could emit.
Next to her stood an old fashioned record-player which was something so rarely seen by the public, it held a certain wonder to its entity as it stood there with its metal horn to emit the frequencies made by the disk beneath the reproducer. It played something which harmonized with the sounds she made and it was as though, just for a moment, she frowned a tragic smile she then ignored as the crank continued to turn for the songs' elaborate scheme. Before any of us knew, parts of the mob shook in excitement as the blurred hope played onward, it drifted from fury to a coarse lull as time went on; the tone of the air thickened with emotion with every passing moment that the music played. It colored the world in its dismay to illuminate the monochromatic contraption that has become reality.
It painted the day with more than the dull browns which swept the vicinity, it dampened the scene with the autumn moon with blue skies and dark rains and like the changing leaves of the switching seasons, her song brightened the world with small shades of color. The moment the crank stopped turning and the tone-arm drifted off the record playing the accompaniment, it was as though the air surrounding every individual nearby stopped dead in its tracks; yet, the musical contraption she had been playing continued ever so brilliantly, and I was mesmerized in my tracks. She was a siren who successfully gouged every person into their trap; I was a part of the onslaught which was lucky to reach this encounter. She was a puppet master which incarcerated those around her to be strung to her will. She did it ever so beautifully.
The music she played, yelled for others to listen- for the ones beyond the horizon to gather closer to her gaze. Her arms moved swiftly yet gracefully, the passion for her whimsical spell shone like the light of the twilight's horizon. It was that same passion which took my breath away, it filled me with an empirical fear which overwhelmed my body enough to allow me to remain frozen in her gaze. Almost as though time halted, that moment felt like an eternity had enveloped my being in a web of immortal frequency.
I blinked.
The record skipped as my heartbeat stopped when her arm slowed in motion off the strings of the strings- her arm swung sluggishly as gravity pulled her limb into place above the ground. Though gravity held her arm in place, her gasp on the bow was firmly placed on it as though her life depended on it to have some purpose. Her frail body stood firm on the chilled floor before me, I stepped forward to gain a closer glance at the enchantress who stood so close yet so far away from my glare. I wanted to ask the bounty of questions that stirred my present state of being. I fumbled forward a tad from my spot and lifted my arm upward a notch to reach for the rarity beyond our time and our current state of mind. I near immediately stopped myself from approaching her- I was unworthy of her grace.
