Ever seen the show Hole in the Paper Sky? It's a lovely movie with a wonderful score by Kerry Muzzey. Go on iTunes and spend the $2-3 it asks for, you'll never regret it. I got the idea for this fic from there and even though it's only a slight connection-as in so miniscule that you might not even see it-I thought I should mention it. SUCH A GREAT MOVIE! Anyway, I don't know exactly what kind of angle I'm going to take with this. I really want to make a full, blown out epic story, I just don't know how much time I'll be able to put into it. So, we'll see where this goes, no?
Prologue
The water came in a torrent. Every particle flitted across my skin in fierce speed as if hurriedly desiring to die upon the ground. Thunder shook the ground like some angry organist in the sky hitting chord after hideous chord. I wanted to tell him that the E flat should be an E natural, but I doubt he would have listened anyway. Yes, even the thunder had notation when perceived by the right mind.
It was a hard rain today. She said the hard rains were the best, that they washed away any blackness on the heart. I had rebutted, "But I have no heart." I remember that she laughed, the lovely sound making the very heart I claimed not to have skip a beat.
"Believe me, stay in the rain long enough and you will have one, Erik," had been her reply.
My flesh absorbed the moisture and the sensation of touch ravenously. The corners of my mouth pulled into an expression that wasn't quite a smile, but not necessarily a negative expression either. The uplifted corners allowed some of the water in and it was sweet on my tongue. My hands lifted to the sky, palms upward as if accepting a gift with gratitude. Or about to wrench the gift from the heavens if I had to. I needed it, what she had promised me I would receive. I needed it now.
I remained in this position for a long time, listening to the music in my head accompanying the percussionistic patter of heavy rain on the ground. This would be a concerto by tomorrow morning. The wild wind would become a fluttering flute solo and the swaying leaves the accompaniment. I waited as long as I thought I could stand. My hands were shaking in anticipation at this point. My knees were even unsteady, quaking in the cold and wind.
But it would come, she had promised it would come.
Eventually, the rain departed, fading as a solitary note to neinte. I waited, my breathing harsh and low. But the feeling never came. The overwhelming warmth remained nonexistent. I was shaking quite furiously now, but be it from the cold or the disappointment or the anger, I didn't know. I lowered my head from the blackened sky and bent to retrieve my mask where I had thrown it in my haste to get the blasted thing off. Clothes soaked and emotions washed away with the pour, I left the forest.
She had promised me a heart.
Where was it?