Short note:

Here's an opening story to officiate movetheslug.blogspot.com! :)

Enjoy!

–The Slug-

Echo of The Melody

You stand there in front of a beautiful white door with glass handles. Mist is flowing through the cracks of the door and it chills you. There are mysterious, intricate carvings on the door and you hear a beautiful sound coming from within. You bite your lip and cannot not resist opening the door before you. Curiosity kills the cat as they say. You take a step inside while hugging yourself for it is freezing. The vast space is filled with ice not unlike glass, and there are many ice sculptures. But one thing catches your eye. A glass piano, perhaps? You slowly move forward and touch it. It feels a little moist. You realize that it is ice before realizing that the beautiful sound is coming from it. A pair of hands are playing it! The hands press a key on the piano and the note rings in your ear. Soon, you feel a little warmer. You touch your shoulder and feel a hand.

“It’s very cold in here. You can wear my jacket”. A soft male voice whispers into your ear. The sound of the piano is still playing.

“This piano is made of ice. In fact, I cannot press the keys down. I merely touch them and it makes beautiful sounds. It has a unique echo sometimes. Amazing isn’t it? The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your eyes open wide as you stare at the piano.

“Come, let’s play it together. It’s warmer when you move your hands. I’ll teach you the most beautiful song. A song of spring and love”.

He brings you to the ice piano and plays the first note, creating an echo. He takes your hands and place them gently on the piano. You find it amazingly smooth as you try touching the keys. He teaches you that beautiful song and you slowly learn it. As time passes, you manage to play the song. True enough, the keys cannot be pressed down. All you have to do is touch it, but the pedals are a different case. Every time you step on it, it breaks! The sound becomes grander with each break of the pedal. The broken pieces turn into sprinkles of white dust and soon the dust reassembles, forming a new pedal.

The next thing you know, you wake up under an apple tree. You feel warm and remove the jacket. You rub your heavy eyes and then look around. You see a guy picking apples and putting them in a basket. A dream? You decide.

*

Echo of the Melody, 2008.

Written by: The Slug (wtf SuZanne why you must choose such unattractive insects to be your name I will never know)

Edited by: The Human wtf. (aka Olivia lol)