Drunk on Song
In a long-lost sea, a lonely flower was floating. Beautiful pink petals complemented her golden center, and her scent was that of peaches freshly picked on a spring day.
Why would such a beautiful flower drift alone at sea? Should she not be nourished with the purest of water, gazed at by the joyous of souls, and admired by the loneliest of wanderers? What vicious path led her to be floating alone at the merciless sea?
A daring seagull, soaring through the clouds, was blinded by her radiating petals. He dove towards her and landed gently at her side, creating a steady ripple that awoke her from a deep slumber.
“Why are you at sea, oh beautiful flower?” he asked, dreamily admiring her gentle presence.
“It was only a song,” she said softly, “a song promising me a life in a land where no lonely soul lived, but only the sound of music and laughter would engulf the air.”
For a moment, even the seagull believed that such a place could exist, and he smiled in awe.
“Isn’t this paradise on land? What brought you to the depths of the ferocious sea?”
She wailed as the tides rose.
“I broke off from my stem too early. Instead of waiting to be set free, I snapped away and used my petals to fly,” she chuckled as she gazed at her faded reflection, “But I couldn’t keep flying as you can see.”
She lifted her drape-like petals that consumed her waning core.
“My petals haven’t been the same since.”
The seagull gazed at her frail figure and noticed the white creases stretching across her petals like scars, dulling their beauty.
“It’s interesting how you only saw me floating at sea, but if you were to look closer I’m not alone.”
The seagull looked around only to find hundreds of flowers surrounding him. His wings trembled at the sight of so much beauty swallowed in hopelessness. For the flowers’ petals had faded to a ghostly grey which made them invisible to the wandering eye.
“So you weren’t the first one to hear the song?” he said.
Her radiating petals started to fade as the sun’s light became dim.
“We all heard the song,” she said, “and we all hoped it was real.”
The seagull began to flap his wings, ready to carry her to shore, but the flower’s petals crinkled like foil as she urged him to listen.
“Don’t worry, I’m not ashamed of my hopelessness, rather, I’m content.”
The seagull lowered his wings, still.
“Even though the flowers around me have no more beauty to display, if you listen closely…they’re still humming the song.”
“Then…you’ve chosen to stay?” he whispered.
Her color had faded to an everlasting grey.
“I wish to hear the song over and over, so I implore you to leave before you hear it. For even a word, like a siren’s call, will bind you.”
The seagull was frightened and flew away at the flower’s command.
As he reached the distant clouds he searched for the flower to feel reassured, but she was nowhere to be seen. Like the others, she had become invisible to the ongoers of life—neither seen nor remembered.
Just another soul, drunk on song.
Noor Guefroudj is an emerging writer who enjoys melodious stories told through the written word. Inspired by the people around her, she explores the hidden truths of everyday life through metaphorical prose, hoping to inspire those who are lost in the shadows.