The Tune of a Music Box

June 3, 2012
By Bella.Electra PLATINUM, Phoenix, Arizona
Bella.Electra PLATINUM, Phoenix, Arizona
23 articles 2 photos 6 comments

The world around me faded slowly; I didn’t even realize that I was animal dying at my own extent until the last few seconds. The only things I could hear were my deep heavy breaths and the heavy pumping of my heart. And then just like that, everything around me was a black screen.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a room colored dim, faded shades of blue. I looked around and noticed that the place was something out of a gothic movie with broken mirrors hanging on the walls and ripped rag dolls scattered on the creaky hardwood floors. The sad tune of a music box sang in the background. I stood by what I recognized as a torn a part staircase and waited for something to happen.

I could still feel the slow beats of my heart, and at times, it made me feel as if I was . . . flickering. I was a light bulb running out of energy, life, and the power to light up an area with my presence.

“Don’t worry,” I heard a voice in the distance tell me, in a hushed voice. “It won’t take much longer.”

After a minute or two of shyness and fear, I managed to talk, “W – what do you mean?”

“You’re dying,” the voice sounded closer that time. “I know it feels weird, but it’ll be over soon. And then you can spend more time with me.” The voice sounded a bit less lonely.

“Who are you?” I asked with a small wail of fear.

“You know who I am,” he said to the matter-of-factly.

“Then show yourself,” I asked, noticing my voice was growing quieter like the voice’s was. “Please.”

I heard foot steps walk down the stairs and I looked forward to see who had been talking to me. And I knew him; it was the boy who had died not very long ago. The one I had dedicated my life to saving, and the one I hurt myself for when I knew I had failed. There he was standing in front of me as a ghost, and I didn’t know how to feel.

I looked down at my hands, growing paler by the second. “It’s almost over,” he said. “In a few minutes, you’ll be dead.”

I buried my face into my hands and tried to cry; what had I done? I had so many people at home who needed me; I had a boyfriend who was nothing but perfect to me, but I died for the one who gave up on me? I would’ve have ever believed it before, but I was just a stupid kid, and I had just lost my life because of it.

He brought me into his arms and told me not to cry, “its ok, you have me now, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I can’t,” I told him with a whimper and unburied my face from his chest. “I have someone else now and you know that.”

An inner happiness died inside him, “So you don’t want to be with me?”

I sighed, “I’ll always have times when I want to be with you, but he knows how to take care of me best.”

“Oh,” the blue world was silent for a minute; silent except for the music box’s sad song. I followed the music with my ears, for every bone in my body told me to find its origin, and dashed up the stairs. I ran into room where I saw a flashing light and found the snow globe like music box.

It was the only thing that wasn’t painted in blue. The music box was colored with lime greens and sunshine yellows. A blonde ballerina danced inside of it in her red tutu while millions of tiny white snowflakes spun around her.

I heard him walk into the room and I turned around to face him. He offered a smile and wiped half dry tears off my face. I smiled and buried my head and his chest for comfort.

Suddenly, I noticed that things were changing; the world was gaining color and beauty! The walls painted themselves a light peach and furniture changed to shades of violet and green. Outside the window, flowers grew and twirled their delicate petals and a warm summer breeze.

I removed myself from him to look around the room that began to look familiar, and I realized that it wasn’t a colorful, happy, wonderland. It was just my bedroom. I turned around eager to see if that meant that everything was going to be okay, but he was gone. . .

I looked at the music box and studied it again. Behind the ballerina there was a house that looked strangely similar to mine. I figured that’s where he went. “I’ll miss you.” I whispered to the house, hoping he’d hear me. “Go to heaven, please, I want to see you again someday.”

On that note I put the music box down and winded it up. I sat down on my bed and watched as the ballerina inside danced to a newer and happier tune.

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