Scarlett 'Arranged Marriage'

Chapter37

“Come on,” he said, leading me out of the store, and down another empty street.

“Slow down,” I called to him, as I peered over the bridge we were walking across. Little fish swam lazily.

“I wanna show you something, but we’re gonna be late. Come on!” he said, running down the street. I chased after him.

We stopped at a street crowded with people.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Wait for it…” he trailed off, the smile on his face huge.

It looked to be a huge swap meet. People were everywhere, buying, trading, and haggling. Just as I was about to ask what I was supposed to be looking at, there was a slight humming sound.

The street was instantly silent. Everyone who was haggling out on the cobblestone streets rushed to the sidewalk. Across the street, a little black haired girl with an oval face held onto a doll in a little red dress.

Gradually, the humming became a soft melody. The melody morphed into a four part harmony. Suddenly a group of guys stepped out into the street, quietly singing a love song in Catalion.

No one made a sound but the singers, and their voices never rose over a whisper. I didn’t know Catalion Spanish, so I stood quietly and listened without understanding any of it, but it was so beautiful that, as I closed my eyes, I couldfeel the music. It was so sweet, it almost broke my heart.

The wind blew, and it whistled through the pan pipes one of the stand owners was selling. The pan pipes screamed and hummed in perfect harmony with the singers. The same wind blew the gentle scent of rain and earth over to assail our noses. The leaves in the trees swayed in time to the music, and a slight mist filled the air, clinging to my skin. My mind drifted to a soft, quiet moment with Christian, readily bringing the memory of the taste of his lips on mine: Hershey’s chocolate.

This one song teased all five of my senses, and as subtly as it had come, it disappeared.

The wind stopped blowing, causing the pan pipes to sing their final note and then be silent, ceased to bring the delicious scent of damp earth and a soft rain, and causing the leaves in the trees to come to a halt. The mist disappeared, leaving no trace that it was ever there. Even the mental taste of chocolate disappeared from my lips. But the amazing part was that it vanished so simply, and so perfectly, that moments had passed before I realized that, not only had the elements left us, but the singers had gone with them.

I opened my eyes, and found a completely empty street. The hagglers, their stands, and even the buildings that had stood before I closed my eyes, were all gone. In their place, was rubble and soot.

“Where is everything, and everybody?” I turned and asked Christian, who didn’t seem as freaked out by the disappearance of all of our surroundings. He casually took my hand to lead me away from there.

Before I could take a step, I saw a piece of red cloth. I released Christian’s hand, and bent down to pick it up. I had to dig around a bit to pull the whole piece out without ripping it. The red cloth was melted haphazardly around a doll. Although it was singed in places, it was easy to tell that the doll belonged to someone that took immaculate care of her.

He reached out and took my hand again. I didn’t fight him, and let him pull me out of the neighborhood.

“Where did everything go?” I tried again. This time, he answered me.

“It didn’t go anywhere. That entire performance was an illusion. That city burned down over 100 years ago. They call it ‘El Interpretación de los Muertos,’” he said, quietly.

“‘The Performance of the Dead,” I translated. He nodded.

“Every day at exactly 9:37 a.m. that happens,” he said.

“But- there were so many different sounds, and smells-” I stammered.

“That was all an illusion, baby. The mist, the smell, the music, the sights, all of it,” he said.

I mentally conjured up a picture of the little black haired girl with the oval face clutching this very same doll. I felt like I was going to be sick.

“Baby, were there any survivors?” I asked quietly, praying that he said yes.

“This whole neighborhood went up in flames. I’m not 100% sure, but the chances of that are slim to none,” he said gently.

The little girl’s terrified screams were all I heard and her sweet face ran through my mind on repeat.

I leaned into his side, and he pulled me closer. He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

We were almost to the hotel. The sites became more and more familiar.

“The sound of the pan pipes is supposed to be the representation of the children of the city singing,” Christian said awkwardly, obviously not knowing what to say.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

He received the room key from the receptionist, and we made our way to our floor.

I was outrageously tired, and Christian ended up having to hold me up.

I vaguely remember walking into the room, and seeing the beautiful scenery off of the balcony.

Chris told me later that he had to take my shoes off, and tuck me under the blankets, but I don’t remember it.

But one thing I will never forget is that I kissed that dirty, 100 year old doll, and whispered, “You sound so beautiful…”

Because deep down I knew that somewhere out there, that little girl is singing, be it as the wind, a mockingbird, or a set of pan pipes. And wherever she is, she sounds so beautiful.