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The Music Box (Part 4)
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The Music Box (Part 4) |
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror 
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As the sun rose up over the ridge, its rays pierced through the window panes bathing my face. A warm refreshment after the night ‘chores’. On the table, the music box was closed and my ballerina at rest. I couldn’t help but wonder of my good fortune to come upon it. I entertained the thought for a brief moment that I hadn’t found it at all, that it had found me. What I did know was that it made me feel at ease, comfortable and assured. Still, I didn’t quite know why. Persuading the old pick-up to fire, I went into town for a few things. I didn’t particularly care for the trip as most folks’ paid little mind to me. My money was spent in much the way theirs was though, so the merchants always had a paid-for smile about them. You’d think I was the only one responsible for the population decline or something. The lead mines created a boom fifty or sixty years back, but once they tapped out, most of the miners and their broods left the area and never looked back. Some of the rowdy out of work miners along with a few gandy dancers that ran out of track to lay, took to looting on their way out of town. Their thievery spilled onto a few farms as well. I remember my father dealing with them from time to time. Daddy was a powerful man of few words and he used them to shoo me into the house. When he returned, there wasn’t a single encroacher in sight. Just Daddy coming up the porch steps cinching his leather bag. It was near noon when I returned. After unloading my supplies, I headed up to the house for a bite and maybe a toast to whatever remains of the day. Good rye whisky with a roll of smoke was a luxury for a man like me. To add to my ritual now was the sweet tone of the music box and the dancer that put such unusual ideas in my head. With a few twists, the box opened and my ballerina rose to the occasion. As I listened and stared, I imagined her eyes glowing a soft green as her arms moved fluidly in patterns that seemed to be conveying an esoteric message. Her body rising up on her toes and then down again as the music became more full and ambient. Soon, I didn’t know the difference between not being able to move or not wanting to, as I continued to stare at her dance until once again the music slowed and my ballerina tucked herself in as the lid closed. Afterwards, I felt compelled to make a call. There was a real estate fellow that had been making inquiries. I’d almost forgotten about him until just now. Such a fancy pants sort of fellow he was. Perhaps I’d have him look the place over after all. Never hurts to have someone look. ...just bein' Bluesy |
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springtao Junior Member
since 2014-03-04
Posts 25 |
A very fun read great job poet it draws you in ! |
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror |
Thanks for the read, ST! ...just bein' Bluesy |
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johnthecat Junior Member Posts 18 England |
I really enjoyed your story. "It never hurts to look”. This leaves me wanting more. How deep will this look be? May your roof never fall in and those beneath it never fall out. |
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