The Devil's Aria

A woman's beloved song became her soul sold to the devil.

The Devil’s Aria

Lanterns lit the canal way as the gondola drew closer to the bridge. The city was alive, its heart beating at a rapid pace. Laughter, songs, dance and music was its breath. The lanterns shone an ethereal gold. The canal’s waters were crystal clear yet black and the sky’s beautiful stars reflected like diamonds studded into an uneven sculpture.

 

Aria watched the scene before her as the gondola passed from under the bridge. Her long, auburn hair blew in the breeze and the broken violin sat in her lap, its strings dangling from all different angles. The people passing by the canal afforded her few glances, but none of them let their eyes wander to her for long. After all, why would they? They couldn’t see her, not really.

 

“A beautiful night.” The tall gondolier said, his face a picture of calm, “And you look lovely, madam.”

 

Aria squinted up at him and shook her head, “Only the Devil speaks with the dead.”

 

The gondolier only smiled and hummed a tune that caused shivers to run up Aria’s spine. It was subtle, to say the least, but the foreboding sense of longing for what could have been hung thick in her long-lost spirit. Her eyes were forever overflowing with the tears she had so longed to shed, and her hands were stained with the blood drawn from her own body.

 

Her hair coasted over her bare back and her lips were still painted neatly with the red lipstick she had worn on her way to the last stage. Her eyes reflected the stars of the clear sky and the skirts of her dress were as black as the canal waters below. All around her, lovers strolled the streets and plazas, smiling at one another and dancing to the tune that lost Aria her soul.

 

“Are those tears in your lovely eyes?” The gondolier asked her, “Why, madam? Why do you cry?”

 

“The same reason everyone does.” Aria whispered, “I had something to lose, and I lost it.”

 

“What did you lose?”

 

Aria did not bother replying to that. She merely stared towards the romantic scenes of the world around her and wished herself away from this place. If she had the strength, she would have tossed the broken violin into the canal and let it sink into the same oblivion that denied her.

 

“Was it a lover?” The gondolier asked.

 

“No.” Aria shook her head, running a finger over the bloodstained edges of her violin, “No…it was a song.”

 

A song, indeed. Aria had known it well. Day after day she had practiced it on her beloved violin, hoping that more than the spirits around her would her it. Her life was that song. Everything she had ever hoped to achieve was written on the bar of notes and tunes. Had she had her way, she would have been center stage during her final stand, and all those in attendance would have basked in the glory that was her ethereal melody.

 

It was a pain that it never came. It was a solid truth that she would never experience what could have been. The memories of it all came to her like the breath of a chilly wind. The notion of what had come to pass felt to her like she stood on the edge of a cliff for all eternity but would never witness the image of her casting herself off of it. Forever to remember such macabre images…did she not have a reason to cry?

 

“A song from the graceful hands of a beautiful woman.” The gondolier said, drawing Aria from her thoughts once more, “Perhaps it is not too late to show the world what sort of music you can make.”

 

The drawing of fresh blood dripped daintily from Aria’s eyes and stained the dark cloth of her skirts, “No one will ever hear my song.”

 

As the luminous light of the lamps enhanced the shadows on her face, Aria felt the blood rolling down her cheek, mixing in with her tears. She remembered when her envy became her soul.

 

It was the day of her final sin.

 

It was the reason her song would never be heard.

 

“Only the Devil can speak to the dead.” She whispered as the scene around them changed from the beautiful night of the canal to the dark, dreary and misty terrain of purgatory.

 

The gondolier turned to her, his face now stripped and mutilated to the point where it even sent chills up Aria’s spine, “I will take you now to your final stage.”

 

As he rowed the gondola under a final pass towards the never-ending horizon of darkness, Aria could hear a song in the distance. It was faint, but frighteningly familiar.

 

“You will now forever hear the Devil’s Aria.” The gondolier said, his voice now masked with a deep, gravely baritone that echoed into oblivion.

 

It no longer denied her.

It was the song to be played on the eve of my passing. It was the song to be played on the way to my final stage.

 

“Take me to my audience.” Aria whispered, her tears of blood continuing to roll down her cheeks as her restored violin glowed in her hands. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the sound of claps and cheers mixed in with the tune of her song.

 

Her final sin awaited on the last stage she would never stand on.

Author's Note

I saw an art print on Tumblr that inspired this story. It was floating around in my head and I managed to get most of it down on. I hope you guys liked it, read and review! :)
I'll have a news post up in my WC blog soon!

Recently featured on projectpen.com :) Super excited!!

Reviews=motivation

<3, Mila

Reviews

[Archos]

Wow! I love this wonderful story! Great job! I'm not sure if it helps, but I think I found a mistake in the section "A song, indeed. Aria had known it well. Day after day she had practiced it on her beloved violin, hoping that more than the spirits around her would her it." - I believe there should've been hear.

[Mila]

Thank you for that!! :)

[Marie]

Very surrealistic and moody...nice use of words.

[Mila]

Thank you!

[Skuldaegz]

I did like this. And would not mind to know more of this Aria and how she came to be. Very good story, especially so as it, at first, did not seem like something I would have generally been into, but the story certainly proved that wrong as it went forth. Nice work.

[Mila]

Thank you very much! :)