Meredith's Song

descriptive writing about a painting

Bethany Savarese

A Picture’s Worth

 

 

 

 

 

The young girl has a halo of flowers around her head making her seemingly angelic. Her white dress blows in the wind. She plays a heavenly song. There’s a look of sadness on her face. Her eyes are full of darkness though, being the windows to her past. Her cheeks are rosy, as if she has been crying for hours on end. She’s magical. The world is dark around her until she unleashes the magic within. Her long black curls are just as dark. How can someone as angelic as Meredith have so much darkness as well?

                She plays her song and the whole meadow around her changes. The great, green, willow tree behind her starts glowing. The white, silky, flowers in front of her bloom open.  Hideous gnats turn into beautiful butterflies. Colors pour out and surround her out of no where, filling up the darkness. Staring with the right and moving its way left. Soon, her whole world will be filled with color again. Swirls of yellow and blue, dabs of green and purple just pouring out of her instrument of magic. Where did she get such a talent? She sees pictures of her past. Her music box with a unicorn on top. It is pink with a blue mane. Its rider has a smile plaster to its face. Meredith wishes she could be like that. She can picture her family of three in a boat rowing to safety from an aggressive sea swell. She wonders how long the memories will last this time. She hopes they last forever but knows that nothing can. How can a girl so young posses such magic within?

                She thinks of her parents. They lived in a mansion and had butlers and servants surrounding them. People would walk for miles and miles just to hear them play. Even when little Meredith was born, they had time for her and for the public. When she was older, she would perform with them. The townspeople loved her as much as they loved her parents. It was the saddest day of all, the day her parents were killed, or should I say murdered. Murdered by the one who goes by “The Unknown”. He’s a hater of music. He stole all their money and sold all of their belongings. All but one. Meredith’s mother’s flute. The magic flute. The flute that brought people together. People that believed in different things all cam together to hear this magic flute, or better yet to see it.

                Don’t be sad little one. After all your parents wouldn’t want you to feel such pain and sorrow. Carry on their legacy. Show the world that you are still here. Show the world what you are made of. Keep playing, it’s your passion. It’s in your blood; it’s what you are made of. It is who you are. Whenever you play, think of them, for that is the true magic of all. Remembrance.