Following the trail of oddly aligned assortment of leaves and twigs the earth had blindly set, creatures of forests manuevered and ducked the cold, almost invisible branches of hundreds of trees and the narrow cracks between thousands of rocks in the dim light of the moon. They'd gone down this altered road dozens of times now, as they found themselves stuck under the spell of an almost heavenly serenade. Every night for a month they'd followed both the melodious waves of sound being carried through the air and the makeshift path the earth had mistakenly made, as if to help these serenaded creatures remember where to find the source of this majestic wonder. Every night for a month since they'd heard the almost goddess-like proprietor of the sound, the creatures found themselves undoubtedly in the deepest form of love with it. Like a moth to a flame, they are slaves to the beautious encore put on each night.
Every night, just as the moon reaches the peak of the endless night sky, this girl would lie down peacefully by a lake. She'd carefully take her boots off and dip her feet into the cool water, silently sighing out in bliss as she feels at peace. She'd have some sort of bug crawl up on her hand, never failing to startle her because of the little critter's legs gently tickling her as it climbs up along her arm up to her shoulder. The little friend would whisper a joke into her ear, always making her laugh even more. The girl would have this giant black case, and it would always contain an acoustic guitar. Every night, she would unzip the case, gingerly throw the guitar strap over her body, pick up the pick and tune the guitar. No matter how out of tune it got, the girl was always able to tune the guitar perfectly in seconds.
Each night, the attentive woodland creatures she'd found out and made friends with studied her every characteristic, learning new things every night, like how she'd cross one leg over the other when lying down and then switch to the other leg at random intervals. She'd always have a bit of trouble getting the case to unzip just about halfway through, having to zip back up and make sure no other part of the case getting stuck. It was a minor nuisance, but the girl wouldn't let something like that ruin her mood.
And when all was quiet - the crickets chirp no more, waiting in desperate silence for the girl to begin; the birds' crows grow weaker as they realize another tune was to be played by the vision of some sort of god of melodies; the wolves would howl quietly, harmonizing along - the girl would begin to play a multitude of chords on the six tightly-wound strings. She'd never make a mistake, always playing in tune, never missing a note. And she'd start to sing over the waters.
On usual nights, the girl sang of old, the times of folk and classical. Famous musicians like Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, all arranged by the girl for her voice and her guitar; she even made up lyrics for these world-renowned pieces. But this night was special. The girl not only sang the most gorgeous of tunes - she wrote songs of her own, made chords strike one after another, all fitting and overall... well, music to the ears. She'd sing these wonderful, awe-strikingly inspirational songs to anyone who could understand her uplifting words. It was nothing short of magical. These nights were made blessings as the girl who walked to a glittery lake every night just as the moon reached the peak of the endless night sky.
But tonight, was a song sung by the caged bird. It was a song that could be called a double-edged sword. The chords, the rythym, it was all beautious and outstanding and marvelous - but the words... The words were not of joy, or excitement, or love. The words were of despair. The words were of darkness. This girl burdened the weight of bitter sugar of song.
It was of the lonely girl who walked to a sparkle-filled lake every night just as the moon reached the peak of the endless night sky, and how she had no intention of living for the music anymore. She had no motivation to continue to sing the songs of old, or originality, or inspiration. Instead, she had only one desire, as the rest of her dreams were shattered.
This was a song telling of a lonely girl who walked to a glimmering lake every night as the moon peaked the world... whom wanted to die.
