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Mizumi No Seishin (Spirit of the Lake)

April 21, 2016

PROMPT: Open Prompt

He dragged the bow across the strings of the violin. His fingers moved silently across the
strings, slowly at first, then faster and louder, filling the crisp, spring air. Any time now, they
would hear his song. Then they would come and he would no longer feel so lonely.
The wind blew gently through the leaves at first, then it became faster, stronger. It drifted
slowly, then spiraled around him, soaring over the cherry blossom trees and stooping lower to
ruffle his hair. Then the leaves started to dance, swirling at his feet before proceeding to form
dragons in the air. Green dragons that brushed past the lake, distorting its mirror­like surface as
if they were calling out, “Wake up! Hear the music!”
Then dragons soared into the treetops, shaking the cherry blossoms off their branches. One by
one, they fell like snowflakes, gently floating before landing with a perfect curtsey on the surface
of the lake. Then slowly, koi fishes peeked out from under their lily pads, dancing in flashes of
gold and orange in the shade of their round, green umbrellas.
Suddenly, the music changed. The winds joined in with their own song, the hum of a double
bass, with occasional clashes of a cymbal. He heard the sophisticated tune of a flute and with
every flower that fell came the chime of a bell. Together with his violin, he heard a story about a
place where the sun never set. A place in which he belonged, where he could feel loved again.
The music heightened into a crescendo as the dragonflies began their choreography. Like
fairies, they pranced, with perfect synchronism and effortless twirls, bodies poised and wings
fluttering as they tiptoed across the still lake. Paths of tiny ripples erupted from under their their
feet as they danced and leaped, a flurry of vibrant reds and blues.
Standing on the far side of the lake where the music never reached, was a single frangipani
tree, branches hanging over the lake, lined with lush green leaves and adorned with beautiful
flowers that gradient from yellow to white. He urged to cross the water and play his music under
the tree, to talk to the tree, tell her that he felt alone too, watching his friends go home every day
with their parents while wishing he still had his. He understood how it was like, to be alone and
watch everyone from afar, wanting to join in but never being able to.
As he lowered his bow, he heard the dragonflies crying out, “Look at the path of ripples we
make! Follow us!”
His father once told him that a frangipani tree symbolized the immortality of the soul. They
could live for centuries. How is it like, living for so long? Are her parents gone too? He placed
his violin down on the grass, watching the dragonflies dance for a while, memorising the
movements until he was sure he could replicate them. Then, he sprinted forward and leaped.

For a moment, he could feel the wind beneath him, lifting him up. The tips of his shoes
skimmed the water and he watched his feet make the ripples he had admired from afar, but the
ripples were so much larger, pressing into the surface of the lake. The water shattered.
It pulled him in, dragging him in until he was completely submerged. He kicked and reached
out to find something to grab. He could not breathe, his lungs burned. Screaming, gasping for
air, hoping that someone would save him, but all that enveloped him was water. Then suddenly,
he a new symphony.
This one told a story about a young boy, alone, who wanted nothing more than to see his
parents again. The soft, haunting melody echoed in his ears, filling the emptiness in his heart.
He felt himself relaxing, letting go, as bubbles streamed from his mouth into the lights that
danced above him. As the lake sung, he felt his loneliness fade away and his eyes slowly
A hand slid onto his wrist, pulling him up gently, until his body broke the water’s surface. He
gasped, air filling his lungs, his eyes fluttered open. A boy stood on the surface of the lake in
front of him, wearing a kimono that flowed like water. Everything about the boy was calm and
composed. His hair, eyes, and clothes were all a deep green, resembling the water beneath
him. He looked young, but his eyes seemed a thousand years old.
The wind, ribbons of gold that morphed into phoenixes, raced around them. The leaves snaked
above them and dragonflies, beautiful winged ballerinas, danced nimbly across the lake,
creating ripples that exploded like fireworks. Amongst the branches of the frangipani tree sat a
young child with frangipani flowers in her hair, smiling as the music reached her for the very first
Kneeling by the edge of the lake was a girl, her hair cascading over her black kimono, gripping
a violin in her rough, overworked hands, tears flowing in rivulets down her face. She was still,
listening to the song of the lake. The wind, the water and the trees sang in harmony, uniting in a
symphony of hope and peace. Just as it was about to end, she heard a soft, tinkling burst of
laughter echoing through the trees and dancing in the wind. She caught a glimpse of a young
boy, with dark hair like hers and the same pale skin, running and dancing across the lake,
surrounded by a whirlwind of leaves.
That moment, a single petal of a frangipani flower fell, drifting over the lake and casting a
yellow reflection on the glassy water. It fluttered, turning itself over and over before coming to a
rest on the strings of the violin. The breeze caressed her cheeks and dried her tears, while the
vibrant petal laid gently on the violin in her hands, a reminder that after all, the soul never dies.
Sorry, I'm still working on this. I submitted this for a competition which had a word limit of 1000, hence the lack of explanation. I'll fix it though


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  • April 21, 2016 - 7:18am (Now Viewing)

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