asrieldreemurr • 10 May 2019 at 11:51 PM
I'm posting some of my short stories here!Song[Warning: Includes war and death]A music box sits on a lonely bench. A song starts to play. The deep blue turns into the bright flooding light. A vehicle flies pass. More follow it. The light rises higher into the sky and the blue disappears. People talk as they pass the opening shops and soon floods into them. Few keep on walking and some even listens. But like everything, they must go. As the day goes by, more music joins in. The gentle sounds of a piano floats along with the smooth tune of the saxophone. The lilting notes of a violin mixed with the deep song of the cello. But as soon as the deep color of twilight returned, the songs, the notes, the tunes. They would fade away, leaving the soft song of the music box. The twilight would turn into the deepest night and the notes would continue. This would be the same. The same rising. The same cars. The same people. The same shops. But the music would always be different. It stopped when they came.They brought war with them, like a gift. They imprisoned the people and as soon as they heard music, they destroyed it. An old man, who spent his days sitting by the the wooden box, knew that one day, they would come. Knowing that they destroyed music, he made sure it couldn't be destroyed. When they took him away, when they were out of sight, a gunshot sounded. So loud and clear. They heard the soft song. They tried to destroy. They failed. They tried again and again but they could not vanquish the tinkling sounds of the music box. Time passes. The buildings are crumbling. The paths are cracked. Even the bench itself was breaking. But the music, although the paint was flaking and peeling, it lay there, playing a endless song. People were still there, soothed by the gentle notes. They listened to the song, and cherished it. More came to help and seeing the happiness the people had when hearing the tinkling, cherished it with them. The people were going. They listened to the music for a final time. They smiled and walked away. The music box was lonely once again. Its song had been insignificant, treasured, and been the joy of the fallen people. It had seen life, war, death. It had seen failure and success. It had seen how people lived, loved and destroyed. The endless song of the music box, that had seen so much, is fading, Now, finally, the music box has fallen silent.