The wind whistled aggressively, yet the trees were unsettlingly calm. Cygnus was irked. It had been six days since the almost-howling wind made its presence known.
Something felt off.
His coffee splattered across the music sheet that he rewrote more than ten times. Some, blotted on his already dirty shirt. His guitar was lying riskily at the edge of his bed. Nothing from this chaos seemed to have bothered him more than the serenity of the forest.
Yeah, something definitely wasn’t right.
The telephone suddenly rang and his laptop notified him of a new mail. Cygnus was in a rush. It doesn’t look like it, but he is. He should be. He promised his manager he’d be sending his song by now, just like what he said a week ago. His fans are waiting, the whole management is waiting, his parents are watching. He had to keep going.
New Year’s eve. He was in a live broadcast, fresh from performing his latest single that was loved by more than he’d expected. It was the song that led him to where he was that time, in front of a hundred, and possibly a couple more tuning in from the comfort of their home. He wondered if his parents were watching too, which they probably were. His mom already texted him good luck and a new year greeting.
“Lastly, I just want to announce,” he tried to catch his breath. “I will be releasing a couple more songs this first quarter.” The audience cheered at the announcement. The smile on their faces, some even hugging each other at joy. He liked this feeling. He wanted to do everything to give them the best.
Exactly a week after that, he woke up. His manager had already pulled the blinds. And this was the part where he stretched his arms and thanked his manager for the warm coffee at the bedside table.
“Jess,” he called out. His manager snooped from the doorframe. “What’s up? You ready to finally wake up?” Her laughter died when she saw Cygnus. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” She went and reached for his forehead, but he shook his head, dismissing her. “I don’t think I can work at the studio today. Can you take me to the loghouse?” She paused and looked at him. “You sure you’re not sick? We can drop by the hospital.”
“No, it’s fine. I just really don’t feel like working at the studio today.”
The loghouse wasn’t much of a difference either. After a week of stay, Cygnus had written close to nothing. His drafts from last year wouldn’t suffice for release. He didn’t want to put out a song he didn’t work so hard on. He spent days painting. He roamed around his house but settled at the veranda of his room.
The trees were refreshing to look at, after staying in the city all his life. He smiled at the sight, but even that faltered a minute after. He glanced at his sketches, then back to the scenery. “And then what?” He sighed. He didn’t know why he even thought of drawing. He heard a ring so he went inside and picked the phone up. “How’s it going?” His manager asked. He knew what was next from the tone of her voice. “Sorry. I haven’t had any progress.” A long pause was the answer from the other line. “Do you need more time? I can reschedule things for you.” She suggested. He knew how much of a burden he was, and it irritated him. He felt sorry for her, the company, and the fans.
‘Cygnus pushes song-release for three more months. “Thank you for waiting patiently, I just wanted to make sure I’ll give the best for you all.”’
Two weeks after his stay, and a week after ignoring his manager’s texts and calls, he finally answered. Absent-mindedly. “Hey, how’s everything?” She cheerfully asked. Cygnus took too long to reply, which earned a sigh from her. “Don’t worry about the time, Cy. Rest if you need to. I was just checking up on you.” Still no answer from him. “Okay, call me whenever you feel like it.” she paused. “You know you can talk to me anytime, right?”
That was what’s wrong. Cygnus thinks he’s been resting for too long, spacing out when doing things. He thinks he’s been making everyone wait for too long but can’t move. He won’t move. His physique had nothing to do with him not being able to lift his pen or try new chord progressions with his guitar. He was suffering in a huge slump, and he wasn’t a fan of it. He just seemed so out of everything lately.
Another brush of the wind startled him but saved him from drowning in the milk he’d forgotten he was drinking. The next thing he knew, he was already in front of the humongous trees beside the loghouse. It honestly appalled him a little bit because the trees didn’t seem this big from his veranda. The eerie susurrus of the wind wasn’t much of a help. But it intrigued him very much, and so he went. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too hot because the large branches and leaves hung above him. He spotted a portion full of birch trees, standing out among the dark shaded trunks. It was like a fantasy book, and he was the main character.
The forest was full of life. Flowers bloomed, bushes rustling from the wind outside. Birds were flying here and there, but there was not much of a commotion.
