Chapter 1 - The Song of Winter Lake

They say that a story, should start with a setting and a character, and so I do the same. The setting of my story ... is white and cold, the character is but a boy, should I elaborate more? I suppose I should.

The day, I do not know, the year is in the present, the month is of December cold. The place of where this story shall be told is that of a village most will know, but few have seen it as this way before. The person whose eyes we see through today is a boy of young age, tall with long golden hair which greatly contrasts from his long black trench coat, and this person is unknown.

The gentle crunch of snow beneath black boot, a footprint left behind as the teenage boy walks awards, to where you may ask? I believe the better question would be why, for the boy walks across the frozen lake, with a bag on his back and a large black case in hand he walks on the ice towards the middle of the lake, but why? Read on and time will tell to why this person walks to the middle of the lake with a bag on his back and a case in hand.

The ice made a loud crack as he walked on, surely he should head back but he only persisted
on, there was no sound anymore but the fog on his breath and the crunch of the snow beneath his feet.

All was silent and blissful. Above him the skies turned from a sapphire dark blue to a darkened grey with only the moon to shine through, and so the light of the moon focused on this boy, creating a spotlight as he walked.

He opened his bag, lifting out cold steal and black leather, and constructed a stool which I sat upon in the middle of the lake, he then lays the case on the floor and opens it as the sky opens with it dropping flake after flake of snow, but turn away to face the snow you mustn’t as you will miss what is next. And so the silence was no more...

He played a song, so graceful in danced beneath the trees without any snow falling from them to the ground, even the animals came to stop, some wary some curious to what this sound was, and the sound filled the air, it travelled along the breeze and seemed to make the snow glisten even more, graceful notes of elegant travels as the boy sat in the middle of the lake, the mountains sang as if a choir, the trees produced a quite harmony and the snow and ice danced along, to the boy playing in the middle of the lake.

And so an icy wasteland was transformed to into a winter wonderland. The songs continued until the sun rose again and he packed up his stuff, and went on his way but that song is still sang, the perplex music still played; if you listen real closely you can hear it today.