The Sound of Music...

I wrote this story when I was 17. Actually the story behind the origin of the story is equally interesting. We had a subject called Communications Skills (known to all Arts students of MU) that was one of the few classes I actually enjoyed. That is because our professor used to encourage our creative writing skills. Now one fine day she enters class armed with a tape recorder and a cassette in tow. She told us all that she was going to play the music and we had the freedom to write whatever comes to our mind when we heard that music. We could translate that music into words, we could pen down our thoughts, or we could plain and simple write why we thought that this entire exercise was mind-numbing and a pointless waste of our precious time which would be spent much more fruitfully savouring the delights of the canteen. Bottom line, do what you want to do. And this is what came out of me. So without further ado…

Once in a full moon.

It was a full moon night but the forest was dark, very dark, as the moon had not risen as yet. It was also very very quite, eerily so. The trees were still. There was no breeze to lighten the stifling air, no movement among the trees, no rustle among the leaves, no prowling nocturnal creatures, nothing to quell the sense of some unknown, looming fear. It seemed as if the entire forest had fallen into a deep slumber.

Suddenly the dead leaves on the forest floor crackled as a heavy footstep fell on them, the sound like a gunshot. Someone was about at this unearthly hour and that someone was in search of something. He had heard something in that forest.

He heard it once more, that haunting lilting melody. He looked around, searching for the origin of that melody. Faster and faster went the music, and faster he ran, panting heavily by now, looking around him wildly, for any sign. He ran on and on till suddenly… there it was, he wondered how he could have missed it, that one solitary house, in that deep, dark forest. Now he strode towards it as though possessed by that trance-like music, till he reached the door. Here, he hesitated, but then making up his mind, he pushed the door and entered the room. It was illuminated by one single bright light. The room was bare except for a piano- and a girl. The girl was very ordinary to look at, even plain, but beautiful at that moment as she played that music, totally engrossed in her own world. He stood in the middle of the room, looking at her, glad that she could not see him, or she would have screamed.

The night ran on, with the music playing- sometimes wild and fast, sometimes slow and soothing. The girl never tired of playing, as if it was the last time she would ever play, and he listened. Till it was dawn and the first golden rays crept up the sky. The forest was slowly shaking off its slumber. The birds began to chirp, the leaves began to rustle, there was life all around. And then, suddenly, the music stopped. She arose and walked to the fireplace. He wanted to stop her, but as the sun’s first ray fell on him, he screamed out in pain. His body was writhing in agony, but all he wanted to do was to stop her. Her outline became fainter and fainter and the pain shooting through his body increased, till all of a sudden, everything was calm. The girl had disappeared and where the wolf had once lain, lay a man. A man, a wolf, a werewolf. And he knew that he would have to wait till the next full moon, when he would be able to see her again, till the next full moon night.