Hidden Melodies
Sat at the edge of the forgotten forest, Samuel heard the wind submit to a sound. A soft echoing in the key of invisibility wrapped around his thoughts more than the shawl around his shoulders.
He closed his eyes, hoping. Melodies tend to hide in shadows, he learned, much like whispers that dodge daylight, and he sought a tune that danced somewhere in the breeze. Unknown to him, directions thrived in useless detail, like:
1. Begin at the tree that has forgotten its bark.
2. Walk precisely twelve steps northeast until you spot an unmarked stone (the stone, of course, has always been there).
3. Greet it politely in a language you left at home.
4. Should the stone respond, turn thrice clockwise and listen to your left elbow.
Samuel opened his eyes, befuddled and slightly amused. Why should a stone speak, and what would it say? Perhaps it would sing a sonnet of silence known to hidden stones and small, deceitful winds.
Following blindly in his own made-up rhythms, he drifted past memories of today’s breakfast bacon, strolling through their croaked song as if they were chocolate notes in a forgotten cadence. Every step became something more than arithmetic, generation into letter, music shifting font from old type to ASCII dance.
In the depths of a forgotten ear, the melody trembled, unheard and unanswered. Samuel considered a path less taken, or more precisely, a diversion without purpose.
Some say true melodies follow after you've not listened closely, turning abstract spaces into audible forms. Other notes, captured earlier, whispered via:
In underestimating directions, Samuel had arrived at some juncture between earth and melody, where every note had skipped a happy dance, knowing it was safe in silence.