The Music From Winters Window
A symphony of sleeting flakes danced to life the music of an outside world demanding love. The scene became a single sheet of music; chiming and thrashing its mischievous monologue and yet with no partner to play along with.
Except this sheet of music was green and the myriad of music notes here were whiter than the purest salts. Charlottes' childlike eyes grew wide and glistened the ghostly glow of dusk enveloped by many thick layers of another lonely winter. Her second winter at the manor house.
She stood in the alcove accompanied only by two claret red curtains and separated from her wonderment by a sheet of glass and her husbands instructions. These two hand crafted cotton curtains were finished with silk tassels and set in the same tint of golden yellow matching the heavy rope that fastened each drape.
Charlotte had chosen them the month prior; these luxurious fabric gates to a world she had sworn to surrender and now regretted. Natures bright beautiful scene burnt deeply into her mind, perhaps to save and recall at some later time. She did this often in the past, as way of subduing the sadness of her divorce from freedom, an event which coincided with the marriage to new husband; Her wealthy yet possessive husband.
The alluring whirlwind of melodies whipping over the lawn could only be partially assembled as her knowledge of reading music was still in its infancy, yet she looked on and thought things over again. She'd yearned for the life she had now since a young age but had not had the foresight to anticipate how it might be coupled with stifling restrictions to her deeper passions. The influence permitted now was solely in choosing the palette that painted the gates adorning the road that pointed to her freedom, and her lifelong passion.
The present situation had troubled her for many months now and her longing and yearning to listen to and perform music was driving her to distraction.
"Mrs. Tailor ..." Her butler had entered silently behind her. "Uh, might there be some small service that my lady might require? For it is my observation that dinner this evening fails to capture my lady's interest... If you pardon my saying,"
"No Harry," She returned gently without turning to face her servant or the now ice cold offering of lamb chops, swede and potatoes.
"Thank you kindly... And yet I am rather tired, of waiting for my husband this evening."
"Yes my Lady,"
"I shall retire to my chamber for now and awake a pianist - and that Henry... shall be THAT!"
Her words rang with a clarity and a sense of triumph that both parties once knew well and yet also knew very well had now spelt a looming mountain of trouble. They laughed anyway.
The laughter receded into two beaming and authentic smiles, and these smiles receded into that moment akin to peering into each others purest soul. They recognised something, it was clear to them both, and it was then that some dangerous affection had deeply rooted itself.
Charlotte then turned and drew to close the heavy curtains which stole from them both the music from winters window and began soft delicate steps toward the door. She paused beside her butler and exchanged a glance which each knew would outlive the night.
"Good Evening Henry," She whispered threading the words onto a skipped heartbeat they both secretly intended to return to.
"Be sure to relay my apologies to Mr. Tailor when he chooses to RETURN," She called out loudly from the hallway, halfway up the stairs.
"But of course," Henry replied. His formal nod designed to disguise the thrill of fresh attraction, but fatally betrayed by the windows through which his heart and soul peered outward.
by Paul David B.
Fanfic Poem
He watched the boy with the childlike laughter
And yearned for his salty taste
Through the spring and summer he waited
And even through the fall
But on a cold winters day he got him
And in no time at all
They were locked in a fiery passion
Their bodies, together
In an unbalanced symphony
Their orchestra was missing their brass
And the rest of the instruments were untuned
The air was full of harsh woodwinds
That were cutting through the sky
With harsh screaming
Burnt, they were left alone and afraid
Reeking the sorrow of loss
Never again did they laugh again
Grown over with black moss
