What makes someone pivotal?
What makes a certain person more special then the rest of the human race?
Is it their past? Is it their future? Is it what they choose to do in their present?
Or is it something else entirely? Perhaps fate has prepared their story since before they were ever created. Maybe destiny never gave them the chance to be anything else.
Lucy Stone had always had music haunt her. Imagine the worst moments of your life carved in your memory by tragic notes and rhythms. Though it had always been this way she had never known why.
Goodness came to her in subtle ripples, but tragedy came in crashing waves. Ever since she was a little girl she had lost much, while keeping little. Where her parents went was a mystery she had never solved. She lived with her grandmother in a solitary cabin in the midst of a small forest. Her grandmother was kind, but very old and had little to no memory at all. Lucy spent most of her days taking care of her grandmother, having to drop out of school.
Lucy had holes in her life. Places in time and memory that were missing. Most of these moments were from when she was a little girl. She didn't remember when she had come to live with her grandmother or the last moments she spent with her parents. She didn't remember her first day of school, or if she had any siblings.
There were many things about Lucy Stone's life that didn't make sense, that didn't line up. And it didn't matter how many times she would question them, because she was never answered.
On this particular morning, Lucy heard violins. She sat up quickly, her quilt falling off the bed and to the floor in a cloud of dust. She brought her hands over her hair, where it fell in blonde waves around her ears. No matter how hard she pressed the music could still be heard. It was as if the instruments were being played inside her own mind.
The melody continued as she jumped onto her feet and burst desperately out of her bedroom door. "Grandmother!" she yelled, running the short distance down the wooden floors of her cabin's only hallway. The small kitchen lay empty, a chair pulled out from the table and a pot hanging over the open fire.
"Grandmother!" she yelled again, stopping abruptly. Lucy stepped forward her mind suddenly feeling lighter, as she reached out to touch the blank wall. Something used to be here. She was missing something.
There was a crash outside.
And then the music stopped.
