Catching A Tune

I'm getting back into writing, and since I'm pretty sure only about 5 people still read my blog, I figure no one will mind if I post a few story kernels from time to time. :)  Here's one I wrote last week.  

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I was within a dream, that much I knew, but the recollection of my waking life was slippery and difficult to grasp, so I let it go.

I was under a canopy of ancient trees filtering the morning sunlight.  The ground was soft and gave slightly as I stepped through the fallen leaves and moss.  There was no path, just a destination.  Ahead of me was a lake or a pond rather, where an old man sat upon a rock by the shore.  In his hands were a series of strings, much like those of a marionette, but attached to something in the water.  He whistled a sorrowful song as he tugged at the strings.

“I wondered when you’d get here,” he said without turning.

I knew him, but I didn’t know how. I tried to say hi, but my words got stuck somewhere between my throat and my lips.

“You ready to try?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he took a step back and looped the strings around my fingers.

“The trick is letting the noise slip through.”

Instantly there was tugging on the strings, and my mind was filled with an awful ratchet:  grinding metal, crying children, smoke detectors, howling cats, and the dripping of a leaky faucet.  I tried prying my fingers free from the strings, but the noise only increased with the addition of car alarms, sirens, gun fire, and helicopters.   

“It’ll help if you have something in mind,” the old man said as he placed his hands over mine.

He whistled his sorrowful song again, and gently tugged on each of the strings in turn.  The noise slipped away and was replaced by a stuccoes percussion of tapping wood, followed by a low melancholy hum and a soft garbling of a bird.  He tugged on another string and a sound that can only be described as the gentle flapping of an angel’s wings in a spring shower filled my mind.  It resonated and echoed through every hollow and cavernous space in my soul.  It was a sound that was felt more than heard, and it awoke so many emotions and sensations in my heart that I was overcome with dizziness. Then one by one the old man, let the strings fall slack, and each of the sounds were silenced.

“The trick is letting the noise slip through,” he said again.

Using his thumb, he wiped the tears that I hadn’t noticed on my cheek. 

“Your turn love,” he said with a smile.

I hung my head and shrugged.

“You’ve always had a lovely song.  Why don’t you start there?”

So I started to hum a simple melody I’d known since I was young, and one by one I tugged the strings, making sure to let the noise slip through.