Fantasia – Prelude
Fading summer heat wavers through the fields. In the distance, the serene ringing of birdsong sounded, a melancholy melody merging with the chirping of cicadas. The field was overgrown. Waist-height grass half-buried the daisies, the yellow dots scattered across the pasture. The meadow looked immaculately messy, an unorganized veld, somehow moving synchronized with the light breeze, which blended the multiple shades of brown and green.
The field was empty. Empty, except for the greenery.
It wasn’t really green, but a hay-ish color that soaked the grass. The leafy color is still there – just obscured under the straw mat, like dreams being buried underneath. They never really left your mind, but aren’t overarchingly powerful to stand out alone.
The field was still empty. Empty, except for the greenery, and a person. A person in a suit, though in summer heat. A person trudging on, though he was following no path. A person looking solemn, though nothing of the present disappoints.
Eddy walked through the unvisited field. It no longer looked empty; there were messes of grass, bunches of flowers, and bits of litter here and there. Eddy wondered how those got there. He didn’t in particular know where he was going; he might just keep moving forward, and he’ll end up somewhere, right?
He did, in fact, end up somewhere. Out of the blue, a patch of clean, shaven clearing rises as a small hill, an isolated island spurring from the field.
On top, a mirror.
A mirror reflecting the cloudless sky, a light, hazy blue.
Eddy approached the mirror. Up close, the blue of the mirror seems to fade to a slate grey, a darker, but somehow clearer color. It was nearly as clear as water, just clear enough to make out a blurry pattern on the other side. Eddy drew closer to the mirror, his hand instinctively reaching the surface of the glass.
There really was nothing on the other side. The dark shades seemed to melt into black. In the middle stood a man. He was slightly shorter than Eddy, with round glasses and slightly more ruffled hair. He also had a suit on, but it wasn’t as hot in his place.
He held a bow in one hand, and a violin in the other, appearing to be performing a piece to no one in particular.
Can sound carry over vacuum? The violinist noticed the mirror. Within the long rectangular frame lay the same grassy field. It was somewhere else, somewhere calling to him in a desperate way. The violinist’s expression fixates on a puzzled look, wondering why Eddy had stopped practicing. Slowly, he too reached for the surface of the glass.
For a moment, Eddy’s mind flashes to his past dreams, dreams to become what he could have become, a musician. Together with Brett, they could have continued being Twoset Violin.
Like an ice cream on a particularly hot day, nature’s song melts into a chorus of clicking keys.
Eddy snapped out of his trance. It didn’t help reminiscing about what he had decided to quit. The constant ringing of a telephone, the elevator sounds, and the bumpy bus ride home all felt surreal, almost out of place, as if they were rejecting him from getting used to it.
It was raining heavily. A downpouring thunderstorm outside. Lightning flashed through the blinds of his apartment window. From his seat, Eddy caught the glint off the violin case. The case was dusty and untouched, having been left there for too long a time.
If I had followed my heart back then, would things be different?
Based on the piece (piece not a song!!!!) Prelude, by Twoset Violin and Jordon He
Writer – Cynthia Zheng
Editor – Kenneth Gong
Artist – Grace Ye
–August 2025–
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