Walking the dimly lit path took longer than she'd expected. It was quite early in the morning, and all she could hear was the echoing crunch of the snow beneath her feet, and her own breathing. This all culminated in an eerie feeling, almost as if the small town had been abandoned. After many minutes that felt like hours, days, weeks, Octavia finally arrived at her destination.
The old house looked more decrepit than in her memory, despite the fact it had hardly been months since she last saw it. Its peeling red paint and creaky old steps felt welcoming, yet sorrowful. As she stepped up them, she was met with a wave of bittersweet memory. Walking upstairs was not something she would usually take note of, but they were so subconsciously familiar after years of entering and exiting the building. She found it much more welcoming that the firm newly-built stairs at her new home, which didn't slightly sink when she stepped on them.
Coming back to reality, she finally noticed how truly cold it was. Her breath was visible in the frigid winter air. She continued up the small set of steps, before unlocking the creaky old door. Stepping in, it wasn't much warmer than outside. The dark empty space felt alien to her, the bright drapes and carpet missing, all the furniture was gone. She hadn't realized how much she missed junk cluttering her floors. No matter how many times she told vinyl to clean up her mess, she never did.
Vinyl... she held back a tear and continued her somber exploration. Opening what was once her room, she was surprised to find it still smelled of her sweet perfume. Even though this room was empty, she could still remember where everything had been. Practically able to see her writing desk, bed, music stand, and cello resting on its stand in the corner. As she imagined she began to hear its deep tones filling the room like it had so many times before. The sad concerto struck her heart and she couldn't control the tears that came flooding from her eyes. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing in a heap as she struggled to block out the haunting melody. Plugging her ears did no good, the melody seemed to be coming from all around her and inside her ears all at once.
She must have laid there sobbing for hours before managing to pick herself up off the floor. She walked back to the living room, eyes red and swollen from tears. Walking up to Vinyl's door, even now it still reeked of alcohol and smoke. She opted not to open the door. She pulled out a short rose, crumpled and beginning to wilt from being in her pocket so long. She placed it gently on in front of the door, as a stream of silent tears once again forced their way through her usual composure. "Goodbye Vinyl... I love you." she whispered, before making her exit, locking the door behind her.
Smiles Staged in Photographs
The walk back somehow felt even longer, though by this point the quiet had faded. It was replaced by the occasional whirring of a car passing by, much faster than it should have been on a small rural road. Upon arriving, she sighed in disdain for this wretched building. Climbing back up the stairs, she typed in the keycode and made her way up to the 4th floor, where she now resided in a small cramped apartment. Going through a few semi-unpacked boxes, she finally found what she was looking for. Rubbing her aching legs and cursing the lack of a working elevator, she sat down at her desk and flipped open the thick book. Inside held not words, but pictures. Memories of her and Vinyl she had made. It was supposed to be an anniversary gift to her beloved. If only she had known...
She reminded herself she couldn't have known, flipping through to find her favorite one. It took up an entire page. Taken from a beach, the sun setting behind them as they sat on the rocks, drinking wine. If she had known she never would have indulged, nor allowed Vinyl that privilege. Looking closer at the photograph, she noticed her smile was off. Forced almost? Had she been unhappy? Or just drunk?
Octavia shut the book and put it back in the box, where she intended to leave it for a very, very long time. She pulled out her notebook, worn and beaten, yet the stained leather still managed to look elegant. Flipping open to the nearest blank page, she pulled out a pen and began to write a symphony. Sad and haunting, yet beautiful. Bittersweet and full of memories. Sounding old as time, yet still clear and bold. It was the one she had heard in her old room.
Once she had finished her final adjustments to the piece, she picked up her cello, positioning it right. Bow firmly in hand, she began to play. After just a few tries, she was able to play through the melody. After final revisions, she began to play a loop. Over and over again she played, and as she played she cried. Oh, how she cried. She sobbed, just loud enough to barely hear it over the instrument. As the neighbors banged on the wall, cussing her out to stop, she merely played faster and cried louder. Stuck in her own head as the fading light shined through the dirty glass window.
That would be the most beloved symphony she ever wrote.
Despite her following rocket to fame as a musician, she never moved back to the old house. She found a nice home in a new town, but never again love. At her shows, she always ended with that one piece, and every day was haunted by her own grief until it finally proved to be too much. At the young age of 34, she took her own life via poisoned alcohol and went down in history as one of the most talented cello players in the world. Her greatest song would be played for decades and even centuries to come.
