Fire

          On a large hill over looking the sea, there is a house. The house is very spacious and there are many rooms. Yet the house seems small as most of the rooms are locked and there is no key. A young woman lived there and she could often be seen through the large window on the west side of the house. At night she walked through the dark hallways, a candle illuminating her path.
         Almost every Tuesday, I snuck away from my chores and hiding behind a large bush, I watched her play her violin.  The sweet melodies echoed in my ears and I yearned to play my flute.  To heart the soft lilting notes mingling with the violin.  Everyday I brought my flute and everyday I lost the courage to play. My mother was very upset every time she found I had snuck away, but to soother her hurt pride, I would play the sweet lullaby Mother sang to me as a baby.

Shalemth Talu
Malu Kamenth
Raykemt Pahow
Ajant Matten
Shatar Berak
Malu Kamenth
Salan Shamenth

Mother no longer remembers what the words mean. My great-great-great-great grandmother sang it to her daughter and granddaughter. The song was passed down from mother to child until the meaning was no longer of importance. The haunting tune calmed my mother; the song giving her eyes a glazed look as if she was remembering something.
Mother disapproved of my love of music, saying that it was just a fantasy and that I would be better off without it.  She said, “that music of yers will give ye few joys and more pain.  Ye best ferget about it” but I couldn’t forget the music.  As I lay on my pallet at night, I could hear the violins delicate strings creating a music that made my fingers itch to play along.
         As always, I ignored Mother, I kept watching the girl on the hill. By the time the annual village festival came around, I had listened to the music long enough to be able to play one of her songs on my flute.  I didn’t stop to think that maybe the girl would be at the festival.  On the day of the festival, I took one of my brother’s caps and stood at the base of the fountain in the square; I began to play. 
At first I played simple songs and lullabies that children knew. They sang along and clapped their hands with the beat.  When the adults heard the children’s clapping and singing, they gathered around the fountain to listen.  Slowly I moved away from the children’s songs and began to play the songs that we danced to on Beltane. Once as I stopped for a breath I noticed that the small grey cap was filled with coins. I smiled and began to play again. I kept playing harder and longer songs. Soon I had only one song that I had not played.
The song I heard the girl play. I sighed and took a deep breath and put the cold metal flute to my lips. Blowing softly I quietly played the notes. The song started off slow and soft, but grew louder and faster with each breath I took. Soon I didn’t even know what I was playing, the song sounded nothing like what I had heard on the violin. The violin made it sound like a small warm ember that had been separated from the fire, a melancholy dissonance in the background. With my flute it sounded more like a fire; a roaring fire that couldn’t be controlled and was intent on burning everything in its path.  . At first the crowd liked it, but then slowly hushed quiet, as if in a trance.  I tried to stop playing but the notes played on. Looking around at the crowd I saw the girl.
Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her eyes were wide. She met my gaze and my eyes begged for help. I didn’t know what I was doing the song was playing it self and I couldn’t stop.  Suddenly one of the booths burst into flames, the crowd screamed and everyone panicked. The flames spread ant the engulfed the entire village square. The girl looked around at the commotion and ran up to me.
         “Try to change the song!!! You have to change the emotion of the song!” she shouted in my ear over the deafening sound of panic.
I tried to play a song that usually brought tears the audience but it didn’t work, the song still raged feeding the flames.  The girl looked around once more before yanking the flute out of my hands. The song stopped and the fire vanished. I could still see the burnt remains of booths, still smoking, but when the song stopped, so did the panic.