An Ordinary Legend
Chapter Three
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Steam shrouded a figure, a white towel firmly secured around her, long hair swinging.
"Just for me the, church bells rang. Now he's gone, I don't know why. Until this day, sometimes I cry…He didn't even say goodbye, he didn't take the time to lie. Bang, bang…." The voice trailed off as she wiped the condensation from the mirror, honey eyes peering back at her.
"He shot me down." She sighed. "Bang, bang...my baby shot me down." She whispered.
Shaking herself out of her melancholy state of mind, Ginny reached for her hairbrush. Reaching behind her, she struggled to pull the bristles through. Looking at reflection, she yanked, pulled, primped and preened until she felt ready to replace the mask and face the day.
Squaring her shoulders, she entered her dorm, quickly grabbed her things and started another routine, another day, and another play.
"Seasons came and changed the time. When I grew up I called him mine…." She softly sang as she walked down the halls to the Great Hall. Entering, she headed towards the Golden Trio and plonked herself down.
"Good morning!" Hermione smiled over her coffee cup. Ginny smiled back "Good morning? How many of those have you had?" Hermione glanced at the boys and then at the cup, "Well, I'd only say about three. I'm sure you understand…"
Ginny looked at the boys, disheveled and food protruding at the corner of their mouths, and grimaced. "Completely."
She waited, just like she always did, for the time to pass and something, anything, to happen. Time was a commodity. She was sick of its vacation.
Wandering through the halls that day, it seemed that she had that old song permanently running through her head.
She felt that there was too much tension-frighten-pressure-suffocating-air-need pressing down on her to think clearly, unable to stand being in the same room as the cheerful students. Heading out doors, she wandered around the grounds to her favorite spot – a stone bench in a tiny garden centering about a fountain.
The fountain was carved with wonderful scenes of a woman minstrel with long hair, of harps and flutes, and of gods singing. She always came and sat on the same bench, in the same spot, and stared at the same carving of the woman – for it was the same woman in all of the carvings – wondering who she was, what her story was and why she had a fountain.
Today was no different, except that there was a man perching – no - floating a few centimeters above the waterspout. She was surprised to see he was not getting wet, but that the water flowed up and around him, as if he was a part of the fountain himself.
She stared in astonishment.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked rather forthrightly. The man smiled. Melt me-breathe-angel-smile-glow-breaking-heartbeat-calm. "Who are you?" she reiterated when he did not answer. He unsettled her, and she didn't like it.
"I am known as Euterpe, Clio, Terpsichore, Urania, or Erato. I have more names, and more beings. I am a muse, to some. Yes, I believe that is what you have named me – a muse." He smiled at her, his black hair flopping down onto his forehead, white teeth stark against his dark complexion.
Ginny was glad she was sitting down, at that point. "So, you inspire people to create things. Music, art, that sort of thing, right?" she asked. The dark man nodded in a firmament.
The man looked at her closely, and she felt as if his black eyes were judging her, seeing straight through her. "Let me explain it for you, sweet. All humanity shares collective unconscious. It is my job to inspire and nurture that unconscious. I am the muse of music, of dance. Do you understand more clearly now?"
Ginny nodded slowly. "But I thought that the Muses were all women, and that there were nine of them?"
He smiled. "Oh no," he started rather smugly, "that's where the Greeks got it wrong! There aren't nine of us – there are only two. Four actually, but the other two buggers did a runner and we had to take over their duties. And we aren't all women –"
Ginny smirked "I can see that."
He looked at her playfully, "- in fact, that is a complete myth! My sister and I are the official 'muses' now."
"Your sister. So why are you here, talking to me?"
"Sweet, do you play a musical instrument? Do you sing? Write music?"
Ginny blushed and gave a little half smile. "Yes, I play the violin, the piano, and the classical guitar. I'm also learning the harp. I sing all of the time. And I've never really tried to write down the music – I play new things, but I can never really remember what I've played when I try to play it again."
White teeth flashed. "And that's where I come in. I want you to practice like you've never done before. You will also meet me here two days from now, and you will show me where we can go and work on the music. There is much work to be done."
The redhead felt compelled to agree – she'd never dream of denying this man. She'd never had someone offer to teach her either – in fact, she'd never had a teacher.
Looking at her wristwatch, she jumped up. "I've missed three lessons!" she exclaimed.
"Well then sweet, you must go now. Ginny, don't forget to meet me here in two days."
"I won't – what did you say your name was?" The dark man smiled.
"You may call me Marcus."
Turning and looking back at him over her shoulder, she said goodbye and rushed out of her garden.
Dark eyes followed her, and wondered what the future would bring.
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Ok, I got my research and ideas from ((http// www. Members.tripod. com/ amusedmuse/ muse 101.))
"All humanity shares collective unconscious." Is a quote from that site.