the song of forever

For the fifth year in a row, John stood in the middle of his treasure room, contemplating which of the discs to place in his record player.it wasn’t that he didn’t like any of them. In fact, it was the complete opposite. The only thing john didn’t like was the verity of knowing he couldn’t play all of them.

But if he was going to go through with his plan, he had to make up his mind. Agatha would be back from Mrs. Gwyneth anytime now. In all his fifty years, their neighbor Mrs. Gwyneth remained one of the most peculiar and erratic things John had come across. John liked to think that by now very little could unnerve him. But if given a choice of revisiting the ogre cave he’d once stumbled upon or going on a walk with Mrs. Gwyneth and her pet tiger, john would gladly choose the former. And that certainly said a lot.

After a couple of minutes, john narrowed down his choices to 3 records. He let his hand lightly glide over all the discs one more time.it almost felt as if he were relishing in the adventure and escapade behind them with a simple touch. After all, these disc records held the tale of john Christo’s and Agatha Wyatt’s lives.

It all started the night they snuck into a royal ball. John and Agatha had been waiting on the side of a route, both shivering and starving. John hoped a kind traveler would pass by and offer a ride on his elephant. Or perhaps by some miracle the eagle riders would be making their rounds some place nearby. He’d even picked out two leaves from an exana tree -almost his own size-to flap around and catch their attention. Agatha had told him not to bother, but he didn’t listen. Turned out she was right.

Neither came.

It had been almost 3 weeks since they’d escaped from the pirate ship and things weren’t looking so good for either of them. John didn’t really know what he had expected. safety? a home? He didn’t really care. Anything was better than the war camp. Anything was better than counting the days, minutes, seconds before walking onto a battlefield and not coming out on the other side.

All he knew was that whether they liked it or not, he and Agatha were stuck together. And for a long time, it seemed.

By the time the sun had nearly set, they were already trudging down the road, hoping to find shelter before the cold became unbearable and hunger got the best of them. Before he knew what he was doing, a question slipped past john’s tongue. the sullen silence was unbearable, and he wanted to keep his mind off his rumbling stomach.

“what was it like?” he said “the palace?” He thought Agatha would ignore him and was taken by surprise when she answered.

“horrible “she said in a low whisper “it might seem like it’s the grandest place to be but believe me you wouldn’t want to live there. Especially as a servant.” she kept her eyes focused on her moving feet.

A moment of silence passed between them. John had always thought life at the palace would be like an oasis, no matter the rank. He didn’t think there was worse than the war camps. Clearly, he was wrong. From what little he’d managed to pull out of Agatha during the little time they’d spent together, it made him feel more and more inconsiderate to have ever thought war was the worse end. He already regretted asking the question.

But they couldn’t think about that now. They left their country for a reason. The country that would have sent him in a helpless battle straight to his doom, and her a maid at the palace forced into a marriage against her will. There was reason they both made the decision to embark on a ship that night, no matter the risks. They didn’t risk everything for a new life only to keep living in the past. no, they would make it past tonight and do the same tomorrow. They would survive.

And that’s when he heard it.

The music. He immediately grabbed hold of Agatha’s hand and veered off the road, heading in the direction of the sound. He could feel himself getting closer as the music got louder and clearer. He didn’t really know what to make of it.it was jazz almost in a classical way. His feet moved faster.

“hey, what are you- “Agatha started, but her voice was cut short as her eyes landed on the house – or rather the castle- that rose in front of them.

They both stood frozen for a moment, their eyes drinking in the sight. John had never seen anything like it before.so many people dancing and twirling, basking in the light of the lanterns that surrounded the place, their laughs and chatter filling the night air with an electric buzz.an electric buzz that john was immediately pulled to. He turned to look at Agatha and by the look on her face, it was undoubtedly clear she was pulled to it too.

And so they took a chance.

They looked around the area for clothes shop and stumbled upon madam yagna’s boutique.no sooner than later, john was in a fitted shirt tucked into tailored slack pants and Agatha in a stunning cascade of purple silks and fabric.

They made their way back to the extravagant scene of filled glasses and resounding laughter and snuck in unnoticed. After all, they did look the part; in their new attire nobody would suspect anything. Just a noble man’s teenage son and a duchess’s daughter.

The rest of the night felt like a dream. They were dancing and laughing and eating until they almost toppled over. For the first time, they didn’t worry about being the soldier and the maid. They were just john and Agatha and that was enough. Neither had ever felt more free. More alive.it was intoxicating.

They basked in the joy of each other and it felt as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. And the music. god, the music was like the fuel they never knew they needed. They wondered how was it that neither of them had ever heard a thing like it.

A more tuned down song had started playing and before he knew it, Agatha’s hands rested on his shoulders and his on her waist. Her blond her fell in waves all the way down her back. John’s own brown curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat. Both of their faces were flaming red, hers from dancing and his from her.

She took another step closer.

John could count the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. She was so close now; he could see that her eyes weren’t completely hazel, they had a hint of green that could only be seen in the dim light, with the little space between them. He could’ve gotten lost in them forever.

And for the second time that night, john Christo took a chance.

He surged forward and kissed her.

And from that moment on, they both felt with a deep certainty that as long as they were together, nothing else mattered.

Then, it became their tradition. Each year they’d acquire a music record of some sorts in honor of that night at the ball. all from different places with different stories and adventures and never the same song. They kept them in a corner of their treasure room near the turntable, each one a memento and memory of their love for each other.

Now, as john heard the front door of their cottage open, he lowered the stylus onto the record and the soft rhythm and melody floated through the air. A moment later, his wife was standing in the doorway a smile tugging at her lips.it was a smile he thought he might die for. Much like his, her graying hair was tied back with a purple bandana, making her eyes the immediate focus of her face. Hazel met brown.it still astounded john that after fifty years, the sight of his wife never failed to take his breath away. He’d seen her a million times and yet whenever his gaze landed on her, he felt his heart beat ten times faster than it had a second before.

She wandered forward and gently placed her arms around his neck, his finding a place at the small of her back. Their foreheads rested against each other. They started swaying gently with the music. Everything was quiet, save for the melody that drafted through the air around them and gentle fall and rise of each other’s chest.

They were standing in a treasure room , worth tons of golds and silvers and yet john knew with a burning realization that the most valuable treasure of all was right in his arms.