Sychronicity
I adore Vocaloids, particularly the songs in which they tell a story. I happen to be one of those fans eagerly awaiting the day an anime series for Vocaloids will be released. In a more realistic (I hope) light, I'm also one of those fans crossing my fingers for the third part of this series, Synchronicity. However, my storage of patience isn't very high, and I simply HAD to write this story out and beyond. All credit goes to the creators of this one, as well as the fantastic artist who illustrated it and inspired me ^.~
Len
Shall we begin?
Before any Once Upon a Time began the cruel separation of a fairy tale and some waking world, there was a smile. Yes, that smile was a memory. The first. There was, perhaps, a face that went with it, and eyes as well. Of course. But in all the heavy fog surrounding the tender, bleary mind of a newborn, only the smile remains. It symbolized so many things that a baby could not possibly hope to explain; the world is so vast and, for the moment, untraveled. It has not been experienced yet, and thus nothing has been seen that can offer comparison to that smile. But somehow, a child looking up at the face of her mother, glowing with love and joy, will know that the whole world could be traveled a thousand times over, and not a single wonder or miracle could hold rank against such a sight.
Yes, before the fairy tale imposed on the fragility of a normal family life, a blond-headed babe closed her sleep-sodden eyelids, lulled by the sight of her mother's smile and the warmth of her twin brother's presence beside her. Filled to the point of overflowing with a cherished sense of blessedness only a mother knows, the pretty young woman caressed the faces of her sleeping children. The smile was instinct; it spread across her fresh and youthful face completely in its own accord. To her eyes, the sun was shining in through the wide window of their humble home, gleaming off the heads of her two most precious treasures more beautifully than pure gold. In that moment…the ill-fated perfect moment of happiness before tragedy…life could not be any better. She had run out of things to pray for.
A knock on the door, and the story begins. Expecting anything but what was waiting for her, the mother left her children with ease, intending to be at their side again in a minute to be sure they stayed asleep.
The first separation. The infants awoke before their mother's scream had even left her lips, spurred by some sense of desperation at their impending loss. Then she screamed, and they did as well, tears streaming from their dim, glossy eyes as they clasped each other's tiny hands. Restrained by the guard, the poor young woman stood no chance. She struggled futilely, shrieked and begged for mercy, for forgiveness, for a reason to this madness. When her assailants remained deaf to her pleas, and the beautiful princess moved to enter the small room, she stretched out her hand one last time, and a silent prayer was made after all: that her children would never be apart, that they would at least have each other.
There are no prayers in a fairy tale, though. Only luck and magic. These unfortunate twins had not a shred of luck between them, and while magic was certainly spun that fateful day, it was not an omen of the smile their mother had endowed them with, but the fruit of her tears as she was dragged to her doom and the second separation was enacted as the wailing twins were torn from each other and taken in opposite directions to different worlds, two entwined souls savagely isolated in myriads of darkness and loneliness.
Now, I shall say it.
Once upon a time…
There was a smile. Yes, it's always there, embedded in my memories, taunting me with a life I have yet to know…the life I know I deserve and belong to. That life is now nothing but a fairy tale…or the dream a fairy tale conjures, that of normality. In reality, I don't believe in fairy tales. Magic can come in all shapes and sizes; it can be evil, it can be good. It can bring pain…which is all it has brought me. The good kind of magic is what I attach to that smile…the simplest, most normal thing in the world.
Actually, there are two smiles. One no longer serves for anything more than comfort, the pleasant memory of a golden past filled with love and security; a fragile, fleeting history that was quickly shattered by the shadow of a nightmare. The other, however…
The other smile is the one I dream of, whether I am asleep or walking through this irrelevant, wasted world. No other beauty truly brings me satisfaction unless it is the one I see inside my own head. The warmth and life in that smile is my purpose, my reason, my quest. A face and eyes most assuredly go with it; they match my own when I stare into the depths of a lake, but the girl I see in my dreams is nothing like me. She is not oppressed by the burdens of apathy and regret, hopelessness and delinquency. Instead, she seems to shine from within, like an angel sent to earth, waiting for me so she can take me to Heaven. I am not worthy even to dream of such an ethereal creature, but still I see her, night and day.
I remember the first time. Wandering…as I always have been…searching for some reason to this cacophonous existence, I saw something shining in the grass. Filled with curiosity and that little shred of hope that always comes over me when I see something new, I strode over and bent to examine it. The object was a token, a woman's necklace on a threaded cord. The shape—I gasped when I saw it, instinctively clasping my own pendant in my gloved hand—was that of a musical score, the treble clef. I myself had a base clef hanging around my neck. It was the one possession that had originally been mine, though I can't say where I got it from.
Overcome by the surrealistic quality of such a coincidence, I reached down in a daze to pick up the delicate necklace. No sooner had my fingers brushed the cool metal did I see her…my first glimpse of that beautiful smile. Instantly, like a key fitting perfectly into its allotted lock, my heart assumed its fated purpose and I stood, a new man made in seconds.
That face…nothing in the world seemed so familiar or real. In it, I had recognized my own. Surely, if I were a woman, an angel, I would look like that. But this journey, this purpose I had been born for, was not to find myself, so I could only assume she was my…
A hawk flew to the east, and the mid-noon sun glinted off its golden brown feathers like a day star. This, I knew, was my way. I had to go to her; nothing else mattered. Nothing had mattered before now, but I had always known that. Raised by nobles, I had been a surly, restless lad. It was no phase of childish rebellion or self-discovery; I simply despised everything in my young life. Eventually, I revolted completely against my guardians and escaped, fleeing the country and proceeding to wander the world, searching, desiring…waiting for my purpose. This was my moment. This was when my life truly began. I had stepped forward, for the first time filled with intent and a set destination. I knew it existed, but I had not a clue as to how to get there. Still, I walked, and I am walking still.
Eventually, my dream changes, and I hear the sound of Heaven. The voice of an angel…it ensconces me, beckoning me and giving me strength no mortal substance ever could. Driven on with even more intensity than before, I am certain to find my goal, even if my shadow is my only company, and the map I scrawl with my eyes closed is my only guide.
Once upon a time—no, in a time after what happened once—there was a wanderer searching for his reason of existence. When an angel sang to him, he knew why he had been born. He no longer wandered, but journeyed towards his unwavering goal, marked by a voice, a face, two eyes…and a smile.
