Guiding Light

Another barrage of dark, harsh sounds crashed into me like a relentless wave of disjointed music, drowning me in their unforgiving depths. I welcomed the noise, the noise that kept me numb. Kept me from feeling anything. It thrashes into me, jolting my battered body and invading my tattered soul. Like jagged shards of a broken mirror, the music scrapes across my mind in coarse, barbaric tones. Dark spots dance across my vision, interrupting the patterns of the cave rocks I've come to call my home. The inky smudges of darkness grow bigger and take a solid shape. My Shadows sing in eerie expressions, savagery oozing from each note. Their shrieking shrills of promised cruelty weave between the discordant dissonance of unconnected music that creeps like the whorls of shadows that traverse across my cavernous walls. Willing or not, I submit myself to their unnatural music, that deep and dark part of myself reveling in minor key. I feel the music in my mind and on my skin, an unrefined caress that sends my body trembling. I know I'm drowning, but something inside me likes the way the music fills my lungs. I'm pulled down further and the thundering noise sends the darkness reeling. Spinning. Careening.

And then the world stops.

A new song emerges. So different from the unearthly whorls of sinister sounds that had become so familiar. No, this was soft. Serene. Sacred. It pierces my spirit, filling the chasm that was once my foolish heart. I recognize the skillful strain of refined strings, the initial burst of true music emanating from a lone violin sending shadows scattering. In desperate, exquisite chords, the notes seemed to whisper a hopeful plea: Follow me. A lilt of a crescendo beckons for me to rise and break the fetters of my mind. The ethereal pull of the strings conducts my unsteady movements, ever patient in my blind stumbling. Left, the notes speak. Now right.

Music was my guiding light in the darkness of the labyrinth of the cave, its perfect harmony leading me. Carrying me. A sharp crescendo conducts my legs upwards. Climbing, clambering, scrambling. Sweat or blood filling in the spaces between sweet agony. Flickers of sleeping emotion opened an eye, something that both relieved and terrified me. But I held to the music whose soft, fervent beat kept pace with my thrumming heart.

Shadows surged, and a steep decrescendo of the violin commanded my head to duck. The Shadow's bellows cleaved through the violinist's quiet song, drowning out the light. And once again, my darkness opened up to their own. Slithers of Shadows snaked around me, threatening talons scratching a foreboding chord across the stone walls that kept me trapped. Kept me prisoner. Their haunting songs drew out pain like a musician coaxing a melody from an instrument. There was a meticulous manipulation through their mimicry of the authentic. And with each note the Shadows drew, the violinist's music blurred like ink in water.

Grips like tendrils of smoke lured me deeper and deeper into the cave, the Shadow's music filling my mind with intoxicating, hypnotic sounds. Seducing my spirit with the profane. Darkness enwrapped me, binding me once more to their cacophony that sent sparks thrumming through my veins. And in my bewitchment, I set my own darkness echoing.

In barbaric revelry, mind and spirit molded muddy, I heard that familiar harmony now laced with sorrowful mourning. Follow me, the mellow song sang, unyielding and unbroken through the shadow's roar.

Once again, I let the violin guide me through the darkness, though this time it was more my own. A labyrinth of my own mind craftily created to shackle myself to what I thought I deserved. But the violin persisted that I deserved more. With its major lift, it inspired me. Strengthened me when I thought I had no strength left to give. And I realized that the violinist was not only my guiding light, but the remedy I had always been searching for. Hope was once a lost companion whose face I could not recall. But in the airy, crystalline voice of the violin, I realized that though I had abandoned hope, it had not abandoned me. Evocative and introspective, clarity cleared away my shadow-stained senses. What once was intoxicating in the sounds of the Shadows as now simply toxic. They filled me with a sweet poison with a bitter aftertaste. But it coursed through my veins, turning blood to sticky mud as I was filled with their dark element. Like a marionette doll on strings, I was their puppet for the taking, their monster for the making, their prey for the breaking. Those discordant sounds had corrupted me. Infected me. Poisoned me.

But no more.

Shadows swirled in furious storms, sending sounds careening. Jolting cracks from all around me joined in the chaotic throng. But even as rocks fell from the cave ceiling and crashed all around, the shadows had no more sway on me.

I grasped to the music of the violin like a drowning man grasps for air. And though darkness had once consumed me, it vacated when brilliant light immersed my shattered soul. There was no room for Shadows anymore. Radiant music mended every broken part of me. Loving me. Effulgent rays enfolding, sparkling chords of ethereal sounds giving me wings to soar. The music and I were one, sharing one rhythm, beat, and harmony. It sent my own soul singing, notes of freedom exhilarating me. With renewed determination, I heeded the violinist's guidance through the gloom and dark of the cave. No more did steps falter, hope waver, nor darkness favor.

Free. Free. Free.

The oppressive darkness receded, opening up to brilliant, golden light. The welcoming sun kissed my bruised skin and soul, sending its soft rays as if saying, Everything will be okay. When my eyes adjusted to the newfound light, a beautiful woman stood before me, still playing the violin that had guided me. Saved me. A white gown billowed around her, the fabric swirling to the enchanting melody that brought the soulful music home. The final chord sent me to my knees, a long reverberation of string against string that echoed in my heart. In one note, the music encapsulated my tragedy and triumph, finishing strong and clean and clear. I looked up at the woman, tears running freely down my filthy face. My breathing hitched as I beheld her striking brown eyes rimmed in gold, so filled with such love and devotion that I did not deserve. My gratitude watered the earth at her feet. She had released me. Delivered me. Tirelessly waited for me, standing at the threshold where light and darkness meet to guide me home. Is this what it is to be loved so perfectly? With a warm, proud smile, she held out her beloved violin that seemed to stir with anticipation. A gift so beautiful and perfect when I was anything but. But looking at the creamy, dark skin of the woman, I beheld faint scars that riddled her hands and arms. Scars that mirrored my own. The woman spoke, her voice like a song soft and familiar, "Your time has come for you to play."