The Calling (7) : A beautiful melody drifts on the air from somewhere far away. The vocals are in a language you don’t quite recognize, but feel somehow familiar to you. Something about the song calls to you, but no matter where you go, the song seems to sound the same distance away. The longer it goes on, the more emotional the song becomes--and the more emotional you become. Something about the song is possessive and consuming, like it’s all you can think of. Something resonates in you as the song crescendos, and the feeling is at its strongest--be they good, bad, anything, but suddenly the song fades, and there’s only an emptiness inside of you. The feeling of loss is strong, and can leave someone feeling emotionally numb. Someone out there was calling to you, and you couldn’t find them.
The sound was soft and rolling, and when the wind rustled the leaves and the flowing water burbled over itself, it sounded as if they were in harmony. The sounds of nature were supposed to twist into the music, accentuating beautiful trills and delicate chimes.
Narcissus stood across the stream from a small campground. It didn't see much business for most of the year, but during summer, when all the kids were out of school and the university was on break, so many of the designated camping locations were filled with RVs and tents. Families lounged around campfires roasting hotdogs. Some had radios outside their campers. Another few would fish in the stream even after the sun had set. Under cover of night, when the tree canopy kept even moonlight from reaching the ground, it was a good time for draining.
These people were relaxing, anyway. They would hardly miss anything Narcissus took. And his wraith was practically invisible, so long as it stayed far enough away from the firelight.
But the music that played, something familiar and unidentifiable, made Narcissus delicately hop across a few stones that breached the stream to land on the side of the campground. It must be coming from someone's radio. He just wanted to get close enough to hear it better so that he could place what it was. And surely no one would pay him a shred of mind if he kept to himself?
Narcissus called his wraith back to him and set off down the little path between the lots. Some were darkened for the night. Some had a pair situated in folding chairs out from. Some were still quite boisterous despite the hour.
None of them were the source of the music.
He walked the trail, wandered in circles as he tried to get closer, but it never grew louder. The song never shifted. No one paid him any mind. When the lots began to grow sparser and sparser, farther from the main camp facilities, Narcissus started to wonder if the music was from the radio at all. He paused to try and hear it better through the trees. Sweet notes from a string. High crests from a wind. But nothing he could put a finger on. Nothing he could even fully remember hearing.
Perhaps it wasn't anything Basyl had ever heard. Maybe it was meant only for Narcissus. Something he'd heard in a memory? Something that had gone unnoticed at first, like the background music on a television show?
He picked up his pace, setting off at a jog deeper into the tree line. As if in rhythm with his heart, the music quickened too. The notes sounded sharper, more frantic. The rushing wind and water felt heavier. Narcissus was running before he could even fully realize why. Where could it be coming from? A person? An object?
"Hello?" He shouted breathlessly into the dark trees, fumbling as he bounded over stray rots and fallen branches. "Where are you?"
It built as he moved. Even with his senshi energy, Narcissus was soon out of breath, and he didn't even know what he was looking for, but it didn't get any closer. It was just a tune that moved as quickly as he did, rising, rising, rising as he ran to catch up with it, to no avail. It sounded like something he should know. It sounded familiar and his, and why couldn't he catch it? "Don't leave! Wait!"
He didn't know why it was so important to him, but his breath stung in his throat and his chest heaved, and-
His sandal caught a root, and he promptly tumbled forward onto his hands and knees. The music peaked in a brash note of strings and wind, and then it was quiet. It was quiet and dark, save for his own panting. Narcissus' head swiveled around, gaze trying to adjust in the darkness, but for all he could tell, there was nothing and no one.
Just him, sitting alone in the darkness.
[WC: 671]
