I sat there quietly, looking at my reflection, thinking. I seemed to do that a lot more lately. Being Queen wasn't easy. The stress was tearing me apart. I breathed deeply, trying to calm my worrisome mind. With the kingdom on the brink of war, I could hardly entertain a simple thought before the depression ate it up.
I needed to relieve my tired soul. I picked up my old flute. It was a bit dusty but still in tune. I placed it to my lips, and started to blow.
My fingers flew here and there, trying to find the right spots to produce the sound I wanted. Out of key, I sputtered along to my favorite tune. Then, my fingers finally found their forgotten nooks and with the next note, I was free. I was swept up in my music, this insane thing that seemed to rise from my lungs and shoot forth from my instrument. I played, slowly spinning with the music, dancing to the music of my soul. I drifted onto the balcony and played and played until the notes slowed to a legato.
Then, a memory hit me. The same song played once before.
Pent up tears spilled down my face and my heart ached from the gush of bittersweet feelings. I stopped when my shuddering breaths could play no more.
YOU ARE READING
The Plop Tart War
FantasíaEveryone believes they are living, until they start dying. At what point do you change? Alita was my rock in a raging river. If I held on tightly enough, I would never drown. Then my fingers started slipping and my rock started to break. My sister...
