Clara's Melody

He had found the stone brick tower overgrown with moss and ivy.

This was strange since it was currently wintertime and the earth was swaddled with a blanket of snow. Even stranger was the feeling of warmth that the boy gained as he entered the tower. It was like spring was trapped here, existing forever in this place.

The tower was in a deprecated state. There was little inside besides a few closets and a large staircase that went up.

What perplexed the boy the most were the stacks of papers. Some were torn, others stained. The sheer amount of them was enough to put the boy off, but what he found truly odd was what was on them.

Lines and symbols. Strange circles with lines on more lines. Drawn in dark ink, it almost looked as if it was a language entirely of its own. The boy touched his hand to them, tracing the markings with his delicate fingers. The boy grabbed a few papers and tucked them into his messenger bag. He looked up at the stairs and began to climb.

At the top, there was a door. It was old and faded and made of dark wood, cracked at the edges.

The boy instinctively reached for the dusty doorknob and twisted it. The doorknob didn’t move. It was locked.

He turned and took in his surroundings. Besides the door there wasn’t much else. More stacks of paper.

Upon further inspection, he found something small dropped into the crevice between the wall and a paper stack.

The boy reached his arm into the crevice and retrieved a key. 

He put the key into the lock of the door and turned it. He gripped the doorknob and turned that, too. 

Being an avid adventurer, the boy was used to facing the unexpected. However, absolutely nothing could’ve prepared him for what was behind the door.

It was a lovely room, similar to a studio apartment. A small bed in the left corner, some shelves scattered around, a desk, plenty of books. A kitchen in the further right corner had appliances that looked well kept. Everything was in the shade of brown or gray.

There were no windows. It was unlike anything the boy could imagine in this old tower.

There were unfamiliar objects. All of them were different, some made of wood, some of a shiny metal. Some had many strings pulled across their bodies. Some had buttons. They were mysterious and the boy longed to touch them.

Another door stood in the center of the back wall. It was closed and had light pouring out from the bottom. Someone was in there.

The boy didn’t know what to do. 

Curiosity brought the boy here for a reason. Curiosity would keep him here.

So he waited. It only took about five minutes before the bathroom door opened and out walked the most beautiful woman the boy had seen.

She had thick black hair, styled in curls to rest above her shoulders. She had an olive complexion and striking brown eyes that were dark enough to be a void. She was tall and thin and perhaps a bit malnourished. She was beautiful beyond words.

She stared at the boy. “How did you get here?” she questioned.

“Hello,” the boy said softly.

The woman repeated herself. “How did you get here?”

The boy shifted his feet. “I was exploring…” He looked down at the ground.

“And you found this room on your own?”

“Yes.”

The woman paused. “What is your name?” she asked kindly.

“Luke.”

“Well, Luke. I apologize for the mess.” The woman motioned to the

room around her. “I don’t usually get visitors.”

“You get visitors?”

“Only once a year.”

He paused, then queried, “Who are you?”

“My name is Clara.” 

“Is this your home?”

“I suppose”

“Why?”

Luke was at a complete loss as to what to do. Clara seemed lonely, should he invite her out? “Would you like to go into town?”

“Into town?”

“Yes. It’s not that far.”

“I suppose we could...Yes...Let me change my clothing first.” Clara stood and headed back to the bathroom.

When Clara emerged she was dressed in a white long-sleeved blouse and black dress pants. She reached for an old-looking leather bag and began to fill it with things that Luke couldn’t see.

Once she was done, the two swiftly headed down the stairs to the first floor of the tower.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the outside,” Clara said as Luke went to open the door. He looked at her for a moment, then turned the knob of the door and let in the world.

It was snowing now and a cold breath of wind hit the two directly in the face. Luke shivered but Clara was unfazed. They began their walk towards town.

What a strange sight to see, Luke and Clara. A small boy in an oversized hoodie and a tall woman in a blouse and dress pants.

Trekking through snow and wind without a care in the world. Complete strangers to each other but both feeling as if they were connected. 

“I imagined there’d be more color,” Clara whispered into the howling wind.

“Well, it is winter…”

“Ah, yes. That makes sense.” She paused. “So it will be prettier afterwards?”

“Yes.”

“How wonderful."

They continued walking. Luke imagined what he would do with Clara once they were out of the woods. He glanced again at her much-too-thin frame. “Would you like to get something to eat?” he asked her.

She looked at him with her warm smile and replied, “I very much would. Though I fear I may not have sufficient funds.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I have money. Where do you want to go?”

“I want a hamburger and French fries.” She pondered for a moment before adding, “Do those exist? Or did I confuse those too?”

“No, they exist. I know a good place.”

“Anyplace is a good place when you’ve been locked in a tower for nearly thirty years.”

Luke wanted to ask her why. Why was she locked away? And why for so long?

But Clara was no longer looking at him so he left it at that.

Luke was careful as they walked through town, examining everyone they passed to see if they’d pay attention to the boy and his strange companion. None did. 

He took Clara to a cozy diner close to town center. Luke led Clara to a booth in the back corner, greeting the owner when he passed her. 

A waitress came by and took their order. She was very kind about it, even when Clara took five minutes deciding on a drink. When she returned she had brought two drinks and a hot chocolate for Luke, promising it was free.

“How kind of them,” Clara remarked as she poured a seventh packet of sugar into her coffee.

Luke spaced out for a minute before processing what Clara had said. “I come here often. They like me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My mom and my dad are usually at work all day and I can’t use the stove. I don’t like sandwiches anymore.”

Clara sipped her coffee, stared at it, then added an eighth packet of sugar. “What do you do all day?”

“Well, I have school. But I’m on break now so I’ve been taking walks.”

“Is your house boring?”

“No, but I’ve already seen everything online.”

“Do you read books?”

“My mom won’t buy me any more.”

“Toys?”

“They say I’m too mature for toys.”

“Who’s they?”

“Mom and Dad.”

Clara sighed. “You’re a strange child.”

“I know.”

She stared at him and said nothing. Luke could tell that she was thinking. Despite the clinking of the kitchen and the chatter of other diner patrons, it felt incredibly silent. 

Finally, she spoke. “Do you know what music is?”

“No,” Luke said with a shake of the head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the waitress coming with their food.

“I’ll explain it after we eat,” Clara said and then the food arrived. She downed the rest of her oversweet coffee.

The two ate in silence. Clara finished her food rather quickly while

Luke picked at his chicken strips. When they were done, the waitress came by to clear their plates and refill the coffee. She then brought two slices of chocolate cake. Luke paid for the meal, left a tip on the table, and led Clara out, saying goodbye to the owner as he passed once more.

“There’s a library, right?” she asked when they were back outside.

Luke nodded.

“Let’s go there, then.”

Fortunately, the library was nearby and it took them only seven minutes to arrive. Clara led Luke this time, bringing him all the way to the back of the library where there was no one. She sat him down at a table and pulled out a small, rectangular object from her bag. It was a little bit longer than a dollar bill and it was a glimmering silver. There were sixteen holes in its long side. 

Clara pulled the object to her lips. Her hands wrapped around it and she blew softly.

It made a high-pitched sound that hurt Luke’s ears. He winced. Clara began to move her hands and mouth and suddenly the sound wasn’t so acute anymore. It was flowing, pleasant, and mystical. Clara moved with the sound, her body rocking smoothly and gracefully, almost like an angel. 

Luke didn’t realize he was crying until the sounds stopped and Clara reached out to wipe a tear from his cheek. “That is music. Isn’t it magnificent?” she asked tenderly. He nodded in response, too astounded to speak.

They stayed that way for a while. Luke sat in awestruck silence while Clara looked down at him, holding his cheek and wiping away tears in the most loving way.

He finally stopped crying. Only then did he find words. “Those things in your room. In the tower...are they…?”

“Yes,” Clara cut him off. “They’re instruments. You can pluck them or press them or blow them.” She held up the silver object once more. “And they make music. This one is called a harmonica.”

She gave it to Luke. He turned it around in his hands and studied it as if it were a precious gemstone. He ran his thumb over the edges, the cool metal underneath his fingertips.

“Do you want to learn?” Clara asked him.

He didn’t even look up before replying, “Yes.”

For the next six years, Luke devoted his time to learning music. Clara taught him everything she could about reading, playing, and loving music. It was difficult and grueling but sensational and magical at the same time.

There were hard days, of course. Days where Luke couldn’t move his hands, where he wanted to rip the sheet music to shreds, days where he wanted to walk out the tower and never return. But even after all the pain, he still found a way to go on.

He learned to play every instrument Clara had. Piano, guitar and flute. Saxophone, violin and trombone. Harp and kalimba and of course, harmonica.

He fell in love with music. He danced and sang when he wasn’t at Clara’s tower. It became a part of him. It kept him company when no one else did. It comforted him when his parents screamed at each other and again when his father left. Music became Luke’s love and he wouldn’t trade it for anything or anyone else.

One day, as Clara evaluated Luke’s skills on the clarinet, she stopped him mid-play and asked, “Do you love music?”

“Of course.”

“Would you die for it?”

Luke looked up at his mentor. A question began to form on his lips before Clara cut him off.

“I wasn’t born here, you know. My home is a different world. A different universe.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to. And no, I won’t tell you why. Not yet. You’re not ready.”

Clara was no longer looking at him so he left it at that.

It was Luke’s nineteenth birthday and he was headed to Clara’s tower for his daily music lesson. The forest was familiar by this point and he easily treaded through the emerald mass.

When he arrived, he could feel a shift in the atmosphere.  When he reached Clara’s room, the tension had grown thick enough to cut with a knife.

She sat on her bed in a black gown, as if dressed for a funeral. “No lesson today”, she said simply. “I want to tell you a story.” She motioned for Luke to sit on the floor in front of her. He did.

Clara looked away. She pursed her lips, sighed, and began, “There’s many worlds out there. Ones very similar to yours but with differences. Alternate universes.” She thought for a moment. “Some have no art. Some have no dance. Some have no sports. It goes on. Mine is one of the few with music.” She thought for another moment. “When I was younger, perhaps the age that you were when you found me, these people invaded my world. They took away our music. I never understood why and they never explained.”

“How could–” Luke began before Clara cut him off once more.

“Maybe some people just hate to see others happy. They burned our instruments, they destroyed our theaters and radios, and they’d rip out your tongue if you dared to sing.” She finally looked down at Luke. “I escaped. Used the same portal they did to invade us. I decided to settle somewhere safe where I could enjoy music. But every world I found refuge in, they would take over.” She was crying now. “So instead, I decided to share music with others. I’d enter a new world and find a child and teach them music. And if they really loved it, I’d tell them my story. Then they would have a decision. They could forget I ever existed. Go about their lives ignorant and happy.” She leaned in. “Or, they could help me. They could leave their world behind and do the same thing I do. And now, my dear Luke, it is your turn to make this decision.”

Silence.

Luke sat there staring into the floor for a long time. He tried his best to comprehend the things Clara had told him. It took him a while to be able to form words. “How many people have you taught?” he asked her at last.

“Many. I used to be a sensation and would teach classes and groups. Of course, I only taught those students one instrument.”

“How many people chose to help you?”

“One. He never told me his name so I called him Wren. He was a wonderful man. I taught him as many instruments as I could. He was good at all of them, but he was best at the violin.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. I think dead.”

The two sat there with each other as Luke pondered his choices.

“Why were you locked in this tower?” he questioned.

“Wren. He told me he wanted to show me something and then trapped me here. Said that he was protecting me. I’m not sure if I believed him. He continued my work and he visited every year--or so he told me. He brought me instruments and listened to me play. But the last time he visited me, he seemed on edge. He gave me extra food than he normally would and then he left. He hasn’t been back since.”

Silence once more.

“I want to help you, Clara,” Luke said and he got to his feet..

She smiled. “I knew you would. That is why I must do this.” Clara stood and opened her palm, revealing a single maroon tablet. She handed it to Luke, who took it as cautiously as he did the harmonica that fateful day nine years ago. “Swallow it and it will take you to another world. There’s a bundle of them downstairs along with my leather bag. Inside the bag there’s most of the supplies you’ll need for your travels. I’m afraid I could only fit the harmonica and a deconstructed clarinet. But if you truly love music, you know that you can make it out of anything.”

“What about you?”

“I think I’m done teaching. I just want to stay here.”

“But they’ll find you.”

“This is the end of my story, Luke. Not yours.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then write a song about me and teach it to your students so that I can be everywhere and you’ll never have to leave me.”

Luke looked at Clara. His mentor and his friend. She nodded at him and smiled the warm smile from when he first found her in this tower. Then she turned around, her back facing him. 

Clara was no longer looking at him. So he left her at that.

Luke would continue Clara’s path for another thirty years. Then he’d pass on his harmonica to another young student, who would then continue more.

Clara would wait in her tower for another month. Then the people who had been searching for her would find her and she wouldn’t scream or cry. She’d let them kill her and then she would be free.

The musicians who fulfilled Clara’s quest often wondered why so little students chose to continue the path. But what they didn’t realize was that all the others, the ones who rejected the quest, never forgot music. It lived on in them, and when they taught their children it would live on with them, too. And soon there were too many worlds with music for the enemies to invade. They would give up.

The plan, though, was never to defeat the enemies. It was simply to spread the joy of music. And it happened.