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A lazy, floating breeze blew through the forest. The dead leaves rustled and danced to its music as the little animals around gamboled in and out of their holes. Presently the wind died down and the leaves glided back down, too. The animals pricked up their ears as the whole forest seemed to catch its breath and wait. You could almost hear its heartbeat, sliding along, then faster, faster, rattling through the trees. Expectancy hung in the air. Suddenly the crunch of a human footstep broke in on the hushed, waiting stillness. It was a light step, eager and youthful, perhaps a little hurried. Abruptly the young man jumped up and tipped the end of a branch that hung down in front of him. He couldn't help it. He was too happy. Momentarily, he sped up, his eyes flashing with eagerness. He was coming back home! But then he slowed down, paused for a second. It had been so long! Who knew what awaited him, beyond those taciturn trees, over that silent hill? What might not have happened during his long absence? An undefined fear welled up in him. He crunched it down, stepping out firm and determined. And as he did so, his confidence seemed to return. He thought, with glittering eyes, of the welcome they would give him. His mother! The energy he gave to his next steps reflected the almost trembling enthusiasm that seemed to be carrying him forward with roller coaster speed. The crest of the hill was in sight, a few more steps, a short bound, and then - his journey's end! For a second, he looked down at the path, gathering himself for the moment he had waited for so long. He looked up. His keen, eager eyes grasped the landscape in front of him. But it was not what he had expected to see. He staggered backwards. A cold, numbing chill overwhelmed his heart. Some idle portion of his mind found time to think he must surely be dead, his heart was frozen. But a heavy, thumping beat soon undeceived him. He felt crushed. No! No, it was impossible! He drew a long breath. He did not believe it. His eyes were tricking him. All he had to do was go down there. Nothing had changed. Everything was still the same. The grey walls of his parent's castle would still smile down at him. The porter would still greet his voice with a shout of welcome. The rusty drawbridge would still creak on its hinges. It would still exasperate him by its tardiness. His mother would still come running down the walls and welcome him... he dropped to his knees, choked with sorrow. Staggering, he pushed forward the last few steps until he reached the peak. From there he looked down at the somber ruins, one lonely tower still pointing its finger to heaven. No. It would never be the same. A non-photoshopped image: This was based off Ian Spacek's Myriad, for the Symphony of Construction contest. I tried to follow the music with the story although I'm afraid some parts have to be read rather quickly and others slowly! Thanks for checking it out, comments are welcome!
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