The sounds of DeBussy's Clare de Lune wafted through the wall of the sunroom where she curled up in a chair with a nice cup of hot tea and perused her notes from that morning's lecture on sound. Bella closed her eyes, reveling in the notes of one of her favorite classical pieces. Whoever was playing was quite good. The emotion of each and every phrase as perfect as any recording she had ever listened. She wondered if it were a participant in the academy or one of the mentors.
Journal under one arm and pen stuck behind her ear, Bella left the sunroom, following the music. Unfortunately, they originated from a room with a closed door, so she stood outside, waiting for whomever was inside to come out.
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata began, and Bella leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to listen. Again, the performance was technically perfect, and she felt tears well up in her eyes, she was so moved.
A few moments after the last notes faded, the door open and a woman emerged.
"Were you playing?" Bella inquired. "Because, that was wonderful."
The snort said it all.
"I never got past Chopsticks. That was Edward. He was showing me how the right song changes the feel for a scene. Man has talent, I'll give him that. Not too hard on the eyes, either. I'd think about going straight for a moment if he showed any interest."
Bella remembered the woman had spoken of writing screenplays during one of the social hours. Irena. Her name was Irena. The woman of the 'walk straight' tee shirt.
"Thank you, Irena."
With a brisk nod, the woman headed down the hall while Bella entered the room. It was a small space with a grand piano in one corner and a few chairs gathered together, but other than that, it was completely empty.
Had Edward slipped out while she had been talking with Irena? The hallways were not that wide and with hardwood floors, very difficult to traverse without someone hearing you. Bella was befuddled at the development.
"Curiouser and curiouser."
That night, a CD appeared in Bella's little piece of paradise. Written on the label were the words, "Bella's Lullaby," in the same script her acceptance letter and the note that came with her packages of tea.
She searched for a note or any other explanation before finding a little scrap under her desk.
The sound of your voice calls.
The sound of your heart maddens.
The sound of your pleasure becomes
My deepest desire.
A symphony I hope and pray to hear.
"Oh!" Bella whispered, overcome by the passion in the short poem. She fanned herself with the paper, trying to figure out which of the participants sent her such words and if they were true or just a ruse.
Bella pulled out her laptop and slid in the CD. A few moments later, the most hauntingly beautiful music played, filling the room with glorious sounds and further placing her under the spell of whoever was leaving her notes.She fell asleep listening to the recording on repeat, completely unaware of a shadowy observer that hovered in one corner of the room.