I figured that this would be a great way to both generate a larger audience, whilst also testing my writing capabilities. All that I write, holds meaning in some manner, shape or form. I cannot write something that holds nothing within it. There is little point in an abundance of empty words. As an empath, I have been granted the amazing gift of being able to feel the emotions of those around me to a powerful and profound degree. Music has a profound effect for many as we all know. In order to strengthen my writing, I’ve decided to attempt to transcribe a story from a chosen song. I will seek out a song by myself, or have one submitted via the comment section below.
Guidelines for submission:
1. I would prefer songs that instead of having distinct lyrics, have vocalisations. As with lyrics, the story is already being given to me.
2. Instrumental-based songs are always a plus, as it leaves great room for one to take something away from what the artist is trying to create.
Here is a song that I have chosen for today (to provide an example for future pieces):
The Untold Story:
He could not open his eyes, struggle as he might. All that came from such a struggle, was a mere fluttering of eyelids. His time had come, his open was about to close. He could feel her warmth against him; the warmth of her hand in his, holding him tightly. All he desired, in this entire world, was to look upon those emerald green eyes once more. Then he could rest in peace. To look upon her warm smile once more. But the image of her eyes and smile would never leave his mind, and even death could not steal such a indescribable sight. He could no longer hear the whispering of the wind as it encircled the trees, or the soft hum of the bees in their hives. He could no longer hear the cold winter wind’s that had once threatened his heart and home on more than one occasion. He wished desperately that his hearing would return to him, for how else would he hear her? But it all seemed stripped from him, as he lay there. It was as if he were still, existing in but a void, as he could not even hear the sound of his own breath, entering and exiting his body.
Yet, in his mind, he could remember it all as if it was but yesterday. How he would scoop up her slender, slim frame into his tanned muscled arms, carrying her inside to their bedroom, laying her down softly atop the bed. As he stood above her, he would gaze down into her stunning emerald green eyes, as it was as if the world would cease its spin, and reverse. It was as if nature stopped its plight, and not even the whispering of the wind could be heard, no matter how closely you listened. It was as if they were the only two people left alive in this beautiful world. It was the same emerald green eyes that had brought nothing but peace, love and joy to him over the plethora of years that they had spent together. Even as the winter’s harsh rains and winds fought fiercely against the walls that he now calls home, they would huddle together by the fireplace. The cottage of stone and wood, lit by several candles. The wick burning slowly into the nights, the wax dripping down onto the wooden floor. On such nights, he would often say to her; that there was no need for any candle or flame, that her beauty was enough to ignite even the darkest and dullest of places.
He could feel the warmth in his hand slowly fading, and he struggled. He struggled against death’s cold touches. Fighting for his last chance to feel her against him, her warmth. To see her smile and her eyes. At last, he felt his eyes open slightly, as he returned his gaze to her. It was the same sight that he had grown accustomed to over the years. Her long brown hair hanging loosely over her white gown. Her eyes, as bright as ever, yet filled with small tears, as they flowed freely down the sides of her face. Yet she smiled at him, and he smiled back, before sinking back into the close that had come for him. He could feel himself falling away, and within his mind was the image of his beloved’s tear-filled eyes and smile permanently etched. She looked down upon his body, the wears of life etched unto his aged face in the form of wrinkles. His brow thick with sweat, as the warmth left his body. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his, with little resistance from him. As his vision began to fade to black, and as his soul drifted from his body, he felt that last warmth in his hand and pressed to his lips as he slowly slipped away. He released his hold on this world, and accepted Death’s cold, yet comforting and guiding hand. His soul swiftly descended from his body, returning to the Earth from which he had been born.
Hours past by, as the woman sat by her husband’s cold body. Tears still flowing from her eyes. It was almost morning when she went outside, the tears not yet dried, but etched on her pale cheeks. She let out a long, sorrowful note, that shattered the heavens, and silenced the very wind itself. All was still and silent. No rustling or sounds of the forest that had long encircled their home. She sunk to her knees on the soft soil. Before her, it was as if the forest offered her a tribute to her husband’s soul. As a soft delicate purple flower grew from the earth. Slowly it rose and blossomed, its petals large and lavish, whilst also being slender and delicate to the touch. She closed her eyes for several moments, before opening them once more. The tears now stopped as abruptly as they had begun. She stood, her legs shaking. Before returning inside, to lay beside her husband once more. It was not long before these flowers appeared to infest the forest by which the couple had called their home for years upon years. A lasting and living reminder of the two beautiful souls that had graced the forest with their presence. As the years wore on, it was not long before she, herself passed just as he had done. On the moment of her passing, it was as if the forest itself let out a long, sorrowful note. The flowers seemingly erupted from the very soil, spreading all throughout the land. The wind paid its respects and ceased echoing throughout the land, just as the animals ceased moving and laid down their heads, bowing. The trees ceased swaying, and the rains refused to fall.
All was silent for a few moments, before the wind once again resumed its plight through the land, yet now it carried something more. It carried her voice, and their story. Whether the nights were cold or warm, harsh or forgiving. Whether the days were long or the nights short. The wind held fast to their story, and carried it across the world, for all those that wished to hear, to hear.