Short Stories
The Music That Fills the Void
Katie Marshall (20) At first, all that can be seen and felt is a dark, empty void. It is filled with the type of muffled silence that tells you there are others nearby, yet they, too, are silent. A sprawling raised platform sits up front, illuminated by hundreds of tiny yellow lights from above, but it is impossible to distinguish how far away it is. Its edges fade back into the shadows all around, providing viewers with a sense of smallness and insignificance compared to the endless expanse that is the void and its warmly-lit stage. After what seems like an eternity, figures in black solemnly shuffle across the platform in a ceremonious formation. Various objects in their arms give off flashes of silver, gold, and bronze, but from the great distance the shapes are indistinct. The figures--no, the people--sit down on black straight-backed chairs that must’ve fallen into the shadows of the platform’s stage. More time passes, but in the anticipatory stillness it is possible to recognize a few of the objects: a sleek black clarinet with silver keys; a bronze saxophone, its player speedily fingering through his part of the music; golden trumpets, bells resting on their musicians’ knees. In the back, a figure wheels in an immense, black-and-white bass drum, as two others push the various drums of the timpani. The faint tinkling of wind chimes can be heard above the chatter of the audience, which grows increasingly louder with curiosity. A well-dressed man emerges from the left edge of the platform, from where the stage blurs into the blackness. Though briskly strolling, his smile radiates pure pride with only a touch of nervousness. Upon arriving at the very center, he gently steps onto a slightly raised grey podium with two clomps from his heavy black dress shoes, and turns to face the audience, which erupts into applause even though the performance has not yet started. He gestures outwards with his arms to present the band, bowing. Turning around to face his band, the void once again returns to its hushed silence. The entire audience holds its breath as the confident conductor, this man who they barely know, yet feel so connected to already, raises his arms mid-height, elbows poised outwards. In his right hand there is a thin white stick with a dark wooden grip--a baton--that appears anxious to dance through the air as it points forwards and upwards. A multitude of instruments rise in response; horns, mouthpieces and reeds meet the mouths of an entire band. Silver flutes glimmer as they slightly waver in midair. It is their job to carry the melody, the focal point of the piece. Light beams off of golden trombones in the back of the band, proudly protruding forwards at a slight upwards angle, slides reaching out at different lengths to provide the notes for the song’s backbone. Golden tubas, though well-worn from years of making music, rest in the laps of musicians on the far left side of the formation, prepared to sing the deep driving notes that push the band forwards. The eyes of all--spectators and musicians alike--are on the conductor and his thin white baton. He exchanges glances with a few of the percussionists, allows himself a deep breath (which many of the musicians emulate), and bounces the baton upwards, downwards, and to each side in a particular pattern mastered from years of his job. And as the baton reaches towards the sky again for its second time, the moment slows in time, and with the first perfectly balanced note of the piece, the goal of each musician becomes one: to play like they’ve never played before. |
Princess Parmys: Chaser of Mice
Anonymous Ahura Mazda, god of Persia, blessed his land with kindness. The people of Ancient Persia were kind, fair, and just, the kindest of them all being Princess Parmys, the feline princess of all animals. The animals as a whole were kind to all they met. There was no violence in their hearts or trouble in their whiskers. Kind to everyone from the largest man to the smallest insect, Princess Parmys spent her days as Ahura Mazda had told his people. Even the Persian desert sands seemed to bow before her and the kindness she exuded. A different story was Prince Mardonius, younger brother of Princess Parmys. The kitten was still young, and foolishness and naughtiness trembled from the point of his claws to the tips of his ears. The people, though they loved him, did not respect him as they respected his older sister. She was the sunshine that spread across the sky in an array of beauty and warmth, while he was the moon that cast shadows in the night. Despite their differences, the two feline siblings were very close and greatly enjoyed the time they spent together. Princess Parmys would regularly take her brother on outings to the market to greet their subjects. Mr. and Mrs. Sheep lived in the east, but had come to Persia to trade. Lord Wolf was the satrap of a city just off the Royal Road and ruled it with pride. There were also subjects like Arshad, a mouse, and his family. Princess Parmys and Prince Mardonius had become less than fond of Arshad due to his nosy tendencies, but Ahura Mazda had told them to treat all people with kindness and that is what they did. Late in the year, the heat of the desert not being so great, Princess Parmys and Prince Mardonius went, once again, to the market. Arshad, the mouse, scuttled towards them, his small feet kicking up sand behind him. “Isn’t it a happy day?” he squeaked. “Why yes, it is quite a joyous day,” Princess Parmys replied in her usual purr. “The sun shines, but not too bright, don’t you think?” Arshad said, this time directing his question to Mardonius. “I suppose you are correct, Arshad,” Mardonius said calmly. “Arshad!” cried Sir Boar, the son of Lord Boar, a friend of the king’s. “You mustn't leave in the middle of work! As punishment, you will be cleaning the chamber pots until the new moon!” Mardonius felt an urge deep inside him. It started as an itch, became a tickle, and then burst out of him as a great booming laugh. The thought of tiny Arshad cleaning chamber pots sent Mardonius into a fit of laughter and he could not stop. Princess Parmys pawed at her brother and hissed at him to stop; he was embarrassing Arshad. Arshad’s soft pale ears had turned pink and his nose had begun twitching uncontrollably. “It isn’t my daily job. I’m not dirty or anything,” the mouse squeaked softly. “Of course not, Arshad. Prince Mardonius was only finding humor in a memory from earlier today,” Parmys explained. The mouse’s little eyes turned downcast as he watched Mardonius, who was still fighting fits of laughter. “I understand,” he sighed before scampering back to work. The rest of the day went by and Princess Parmys and Prince Mardonius thought nothing of their encounter with the silly little mouse named Arshad. The sun, which had shined not too brightly that day, set. In the morning, it rose again. Mardonius was nowhere to be found. It was discovered that Arshad had taken him. A note was spelled out in the hair from Mardonius’ tuft of a tail like piles of straw that read, “THE PRINS HAS BIN UNKIND. AHURA MAZDA WANTS PAYMINT. I WILL GIV IT TO HIM. --ARSHAD” The king, worried for his son, immediately called his best knights in an attempt to rescue the prince. “The prince has been kidnapped,” the king hissed, his mane shaking viciously. “Which of you is brave enough to rescue him?” No one, not even Sir Eagle, dared to speak a word. “What of you, Sir Boar?” the king asked. “Not I, my king. I am to be married three days from a fortnight. There is no telling how long the mission would take,” Sir Boar snorted nervously. “And you, Sir Bear?” the king inquired. “Not I, my king,” Sir Bear rumbled apologetically. “I am still injured from the last battle I fought for this great kingdom.” “Sir Eagle?” the king wheezed hopefully. “Not I, my king,” Sir Eagle cawed. “My feathers have been feeling very foul and would not survive such a long journey as that.” Again and again the king asked, and again and again his knights had to decline, for they had much more important matters on their paws and talons. Both the king and Princess Parmys felt growing anxiety. What if no one volunteered to rescue Prince Mardonius? Parmys cared too much for her brother to let him be taken by Arshad. “My king?” she meowed. “Father?” “Yes, Princess?” His whiskers tilted down in a grimace. “I volunteer myself to save Prince Mardonius.” The king did not approve of this idea at first, but he eventually agreed as long as Parmys agreed to take her maidservant, Apama, a young fox. The two set out the next day. As they left the safety of the city to brave the Royal Road, a Huma bird rose soared above them, and the sun, which was not too bright that day, seemed to follow them on their journey, giving them light and warmth wherever they went. Though the sun was not too bright, the heat was great, and Parmys felt herself and Apama stopping for breaks more often than they would have liked. Their thirst seemed never to quench and the road was like an endless snake, curving back and forth so often that Parmys spent her nights begging Ahura Mazda for an end. They reached the place where Mardonius was being kept after several days of walking the Royal Road. “What’re we going to do now?” Apama asked when they reached the little house in the oasis. “We shall knock on the door and ask to enter,” Parmys said smoothly. She placed a paw to the door and clicked at it three times with her claws. A large mouse opened the door a few moments later and it was not Arshad, but one of his many family members. “We come for Prince Mardonius,” Parmys purred. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave,” the mouse said in a deep squeak. “Please,” Parmys said. “Apama and I do not wish to quarrel or resort to violence. We want only to speak with Arshad and bring the prince back home.” “Fine. Only for a moment,” the mouse said. He stood back to let Parmys and Apama enter. The little house was dark and they could barely see Prince Mardonius’ hunched figure in the light of the dull sunlight leaking through the windows. “I’m sorry, Princess. Ahura Mazda says to be kind. The prince was unkind,” squeaked Arshad as he stepped out from the shadows. “Yet you have shown even greater unkindness by bringing him here, Arshad,” Parmys hissed. “Then I will offer you a riddle,” the mouse said. “Of food I am never in need and in mood I am never low. What am I?” Parmys thought and thought, but she could not think of what the mouse could be speaking of. Her whiskers twitched as she became more and more agitated. “I think I know it,” Apama whispered, so that the mice could not hear. “It is a Huma bird. They never tire, so they are not in need of food. They are never low in mood because they are a sign of happiness to those who see them.” “Thank you, Apama, for you are truly one clever fox,” Parmys purred softly. She then roared loudly for all to hear. “We have solved your riddle, Arshad. The solution is a Huma bird.” Arshad seemed furious and raised his paws to the heavens. “I am sorry, Ahura Mazda!” he cried. Ahura Mazda spoke down to him and all the others in the house. “Your remorse is directed incorrectly, little mouse. You have wronged me with your own wrath.” Arshad gasped and bowed down. “Please forgive me, great Ahura Mazda.” Ahura Mazda spoke once again. “You are forgiven. However, as punishment for your actions, you and your ancestors shall forever be antagonized by the feline race.” It was at that moment that Prince Mardonius awoke and rushed to his sister. “Parmys!” he cried. “I could not be more glad to see you.” He looked around to see Arshad and the other mice trembling in fear at the sight of such large felines in their midst. They scampered out of the little house as quickly as they could, and the prince and princess followed them. Apama watched as the Huma bird flew over in the distance and, for the first time, the cats chased the mice into the sun that was not too bright that day. |