Amadeus in Time

Amadeus discovered at an early age that he had a special gift when he clumsily knocked his father's cup from the kitchen table. In the moment of panic that naturally follows every realization of impending disaster, Amadeus was shocked to learn he could stretch that moment as long as he wanted. He was shocked even more when a ray of light seemed to move during this moment when nothing else could. The young boy’s nerves got the better of him and pulled him back into the regular flow of time. He convinced himself that his imagination had gotten the better of him.

Over the years, Amadeus practiced his new talent until he was confident of his skill. His concentration was impenetrable, his emotions fully under his command. The wavering beams of light he continued to see were no longer enough to evict him from his domain.

One day, while meditating in a particularly inviting moment between moments, Amadeus decided he had had enough of the dancing lights. These violently shaking shafts of sunlight had been growing in power along with Amadeus. They had tested him every step of the way, and he was determined to come out the winner of their secret contest. With a furrowed brow and gritted teeth, the self-proclaimed King of Chronos willed time to stop for even them, the most insolent of unnatural phenomenon.

Amadeus opened his eyes and saw the light frozen before him. He was pleased with himself, but there was something about the rays of light that he couldn’t bring himself to ignore. He couldn’t see it before, but there were more colors hidden inside that the average ray of sunshine simply wouldn’t have. He looked closer and closer, squinting his eyes and going so far as to hold his hand under the light to give it a surface to project onto. The different hues produced a blurry, out-of-focus image, which appeared to depict a pair of people, perhaps a man and a woman.

Curious, Amadeus went to the next shaft of light and repeated his investigative process. The image was different, but the fuzzy suggestion of a man seemed familiar enough to relate to the first. 

“There must be a way to make these portraits clear, comprehensible,” Amadeus said to himself. He thought a moment and realized there was only one thing he could do: allow time to flow. He debated whether it was even worth it. Would this count as letting them win? Would they feel his ego bruise as he would?

He held his hand aloft and turned an invisible clock hand as gently and slowly as he could.

The collage of colored light that was projected onto his opposite hand slowly came into focus as certain strings of lights huddled closer together and others spread apart until finally an image as clear as a photograph lay in his hand. 

Amadeus’ hands trembled. The man in the photo was him, but not. This man held a child in his arms. His face wore a smile wider and warmer than any Amadeus had ever felt. The child shared many features with Amadeus. His smile, his hair, the cleft in his chin. His eyes were borrowed from someone else, but that made the child all the more precious.

Amadeus rushed to another projection. In it, he was sharing a candlelit dinner with a woman he had never met. The woman was more beautiful than even the most everlasting of sunsets. Her eyes, confined within the still image, seemed to twinkle. Amadeus had gazed at all the stars the night sky had to offer longer than any astronomer could ever dream to, yet none of them compared to this woman’s eyes.

The next projection was void of any people. Instead, it showed a case of jewelry with rows of rings displayed. Amadeus never lived this life, but he knew which ring his doppelganger would have chosen. A slight grin made its way onto his face. He blinked a tear away and went on to the next column of light.

He began to put his hand under the light but stopped short and looked up to the sky. 

“Why?”

Nothing.

“Why am I being shown these things?”

Nothing.

“What are these images? Do they reveal to me the life I have forgone by honing this blade? Or could they refer to a life I would never have known but have become privy to thanks to my gift?”

Amadeus contemplated his next move very carefully. Should he deny his curiosity and return to the life of discipline he worked so hard to achieve, or should he accept his prize for lifelong devotion to mental fortitude and peer through the looking glass?

Finally, Amadeus allowed his hand to be bathed in the light. This time, there was no image. There was no peek into a life that might have been. There was only light being shed on an old man’s hand. He saw that it was empty.

All around him were glimpses into a life filled with love and life and happiness, and yet his own was barren, bereft of these things. He had convinced himself that all emotions, including love, only served to weaken him. He had grown his power by ignoring them, by locking them up deep within himself, and now they were being liberated.

Amadeus sat down on the ground. He looked at the blades of grass that were bending to the whim of the wind, now frozen, denied the joy of movement. He looked at a bee eagerly on its way to a nearby flower, unable to reach its destination. He saw a young bird standing in its nest, ready to take flight for the first time, but trapped in its penultimate moment.

Amadeus held his head in his hands and cried. After so long of seeing only what he wanted to see, he at long last saw what he didn’t. He released the world from his grasp and heard the wind blowing, the bees buzzing, the birds chirping. He had finished crying, but let his head rest for a while and enjoyed the sounds of the world around him for the first time in a long time.

“Excuse me? Are you alright?” a voice asked from behind him.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine,” Amadeus answered. He rose to his feet and met a woman with beautiful eyes. She was met by a man with a wide, warm smile.