Chapter 1

I was three years old when I first heard the pipes playing; it was a whimsical tune that rang through the night and floated through the open window of my bedroom, softly waking me from sleep. I had yawned and stretched, kicking away my blankets with a smile, and how could I not with such beautiful music calling to me. It made me want to laugh and twirl about, but even more so it made me want to find it. Its soft, happy notes calling to me like some sweet dreamy spell. And so I climbed out of bed and tip toed through the quiet house, the front door giving a soft sigh of contempt as I stepped through.

I had frozen on the front porch, the night air giving me chills as I stood there in my light nightgown, my little body swaying to the sweet music. It was louder now, I wouldn't have to go far as it was just beyond the trees. I took off, and I must have made it to the third step before a strong arm wrapped around my waist and plucked me from my determined path.

I had struggled impatiently in my brothers arms as he chuckled and fluffed my hair. He carried me back inside and had thwarted any attempt I had made to make it back outside. So instead we laughed and danced about the living room, seeming too loud and too boisterous in the dark hours of the night; Our little house in the bottom of the valley thriving with life as our parents and neighbors slept. I had danced to the pipes that night, but I knew my older brother couldn't hear them, though I had never asked him, I had just been so sure of it somehow. I guess I figured if he had heard them, wouldn't he have run off into the night with me? The music had been much too sweet, too beautiful to deny, so it was obvious he couldn't hear it; so we danced and laughed till the pipes stopped playing, and it seemed all my energy had faded with the music and my brother picked me up in his arms and carried me to bed where I slept once again.

The next morning the few children in our small community where bragging and boasting, holding up white and gold marbles in their hands with light in their eyes as they showed them off. They had heard the pipes playing, and had ran off to the clearing just beyond the trees to find it, instead though they had found the marbles. Of course the sparkling little orbs of glass weren't just marbles, but wishes, or so that's what the other children said.

None of the parents had been happy that morning, what with their babies running off in the middle of the night and waking up telling stories of wishes inside marbles, and what music had they heard, what pipes? No one seemed to understand, at least no one over the age of ten that is, and it was all very mysterious, and I had been very disappointed that I wasn't a part of it all.

A few weeks had passed by and some of the children started disappearing, I heard my parents talk about it sometimes with the neighbors. But I was just a child and I didn't really understand, nor honestly did I care; not because I was a heartless person, but I was only three, and such things were not a concern to the mind of a three year old. I only cared about butterflies and fairy tales, ice cream and candies. I wanted to go outside and play, stay up late and listen for the pipes, but I was on tight lock down because of these other children that weren't at home. It was all very unfair to me, to a three year old.

Years passed by and I was seven when I next heard the pipes playing. It had been the same as before, the soft notes drifting through the dark summer night to find my ears, as if it were searching for me, calling to me. I wanted to dance and laugh with joy just as before, but I caught myself as I leapt for my bedroom door. I had been caught last time, and hadn't got my wish, hadn't found the source of the music, I didn't want to be left out again. So I turned and went to the window instead, pulling away the curtains and pushing the window open. Distantly I heard my parents warning, I wasn't supposed to go out at night, especially without supervision; there was a bad man that had been hurting people in the nearby neighborhood. My childish mind push the thoughts away though as the music grew louder, tugging at my ears, at my soul and then my feet were happily dancing upon the dewy grass as I skipped into the night and straight for the trees.

I waited to see other children, but none came; I waited to find the boy that played the pipes, but he wasn't there. The music was all around me, the rich tune ringing through the trees as if he should have been playing right beside me but no one was there. I wasn't sure why I thought it would be a boy playing and not a girl,  or even an adult because never had I heard a child play so beautifully. It was a boy though and I just knew it, though I wasn't sure how I knew, I just did.

I twirled and danced through the trees in  circles, laughing and humming along, until eventually the playing slowed and stopped all together. The last notes echoing through the night like a forgotten dream, I stopped twirling and walked in a circle, my eyes searching hoping to find the boy. The only movement in the now too quiet night was the trees swaying in the chilly night breeze, and with a sad sigh I stepped to leave, my foot catching something hard and cold.

I knelt towards the ground and gasped as I  spotted a sparkling thing in the grass. I plucked the white and gold marble from the ground, and cradled the wish in my palm as I laughed with glee.  I couldn't wait to show it to my friends in the morning, and with that joyous thought came a yawn, my body growing tired from all the dancing, no longer being fueled by the music. It had not been a long was but it seemed longer now as I shuffled my feet and yawned again as I slowly made my way back home.

I only had a few houses to go when I heard my mother scream and my father yelling before he too was letting out a bone chilling shout. Then I couldn't hear them anymore, instead it was others who were shouting, our neighbors who were yelling, calling for help as the street was lit up as each one of them woke from the screams and turned on their lights, running to go see what had happened.

I was running then too, suddenly scared and I didn't know why, I only knew that something bad had happened. I was afraid and I wanted my parents, wanted them to hold me and tell me everything was alright. I never made it though, my neighbor had seen me running and rushed over to stop me, wrapping her arms around my little body and holding me tight. I struggled to get away from her, I wanted my parents. Somehow though, I knew that wasn't possible and I started to cry, loud wailing sobs as I called for my family, but no one answered.

I had saved my own life by running after the pipes that night, there had been several other murders in the surrounding neighborhoods and it had finally reached ours. I don't remember much about the following weeks, and surprisingly I never thought to use the marble and wish for my family back. Maybe it was the horror of it all, or maybe I was at the age young enough to be excited for such wonders as wishes, yet old enough to not be so naive as to think it would work. Regardless the sparkling marble had been tucked into the pocket of my nightgown that night and in the end had been forgotten.  

I went to live with my grandmother in the city after that, and thought of my family many times. It seemed though more times than not I would forget how I had snuk out that night and followed the pipes to find the wish. It might seem odd that it escaped my memories, seeing as how it was what saved my life; but I had still been young, and the horror and devastation of it all  overwhelmed my memories and was all I could see most of the time.

I went on with my life though, or as best as I could, and grew up in the city with my grandmother. I couldn't complain really, for the most part it was a good life. I missed out on a lot of things not having my parents or even my older brother growing up. Granny wasn't exactly the sprightly type to take me camping or even to the mall on a Saturday; nor was she the one to gush to about boy, or help me learn how to use make up. I managed to get by though and was happy with my life.

I found myself staring out my window some nights though, or walking through the park on a path lined with trees and I would pause. A feeling of longing would come over me, a sense of Deja vu, as if I was missing something or had been there before. But the feeling was fuzzy and eventually it would slip away leaving me feeling empty. Like waking up from a wonderful dream, and upon waking the imaged blurred and the colors ran until the picture was gone all together leaving you sad and longing for that certain something you couldn't even remember, but you knew it was amazing.

I grew up knowing there was something amazing out there, something I was always on the brink of discovering. I clung to that fuzzy feeling, that almost forgotten dream all my life, waiting for the day when the fog would clear. It was a childhood fantasy and it took me thirteen years of waiting; thirteen years of living a relatively normal life, only for it all to fly out the window on a hot summer night. 

Reviews

[HadesRising]

Really interesting story. Well written.

[Fire Mage Andrea]

Superb start to a story, with aspects of murder and fantasy.