๐๐๐ ๐๐ข๐จ๐ฅ๐ข๐ง, ๐๐ข๐๐ง๐จ | ๐๐ญ๐ก๐๐ซ๐๐๐ฅ ๐๐จ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฌ | ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ข๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ ๐๐ญ๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ค๐ข๐ง๐ | ๐๐๐ฅ๐จ๐๐ฒ ๐จ๐ ๐๐จ๐ง๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ง๐๐ฌ๐ฌ | ๐๐๐ข๐ง
ะััะฐะฒะบะฐ
- ะะฟัะฑะปัะบะพะฒะฐะฝะพ 22 ะณัั 2024
Melody of Loneliness
The air was thick with the scent of rain as dark clouds cast a somber shadow over the city, cloaking the winding streets and tall, intricate buildings in mist. A faint drizzle had begun to fall, creating silvery rivulets on the red brick structures and cobbled pathways below. Yet, she barely noticed the drops now dotting the iron railing of her balcony or dampening the lace trim of her gown.
Her name was Alina, once the voice of this city, celebrated and beloved. The people had come from distant villages to hear her sing, and her voice had filled the grand halls with melodies that were whispered by lovers, remembered by soldiers, and cherished by children. But that was a different time, another life.
Now, she sat in silence, her gaze drifting across the familiar rooftops that seemed different somehow, as if dimmed by memories she could no longer bear to revisit. The rose-colored bricks mirrored the hues of the flowers in her hair, though she wore them out of habit, not out of joy. Her hands were folded on her lap, fingers intertwined as though holding onto the remnants of a dream slipping away with each raindrop.
She remembered the nights when she sang under bright lights, with the city awake and alive, clapping, shouting, urging her on for encore after encore. Her voice had reached heights and depths she hadnโt known were possible, yet it wasnโt the music or fame that had sustained her. It was the man who would wait for her after every performance, whose quiet strength and rare smile had filled her with warmth. They had shared whispers on this very balcony, watching the rain just like this, and he would trace her hand with his, saying she was his song, his light, his love.
But that was before. Before heโd gone to war and never returned, leaving only the echo of his promises behind. The war had taken him, and though she tried to sing again, her voice cracked with sorrow, and the notes became hollow, unrecognizable. It wasnโt long before she was replaced, her song no longer resonating with the same power. Her audience drifted away, her name faded from the playbills, and her life became as quiet as her voice.
Now, in this solitude, the only melody was the soft patter of rain. Her heart ached with a longing so deep it felt endless, like the mist stretching across the rooftops. She didnโt wish for applause, for grandeur, or for fame anymore. All she wanted was the return of that quiet comfort, that feeling of being understood without a word.
The rain began to fall harder, and she closed her eyes, allowing it to wash over her. Maybe, she thought, the rain could carry her grief into the city below, so the streets would share in her loss, and perhaps-just perhaps-the memory of her voice would linger, not in the halls where she once sang, but in the rain-soaked bricks of the city that had taken everything from her.
In this fragile moment, Alina let herself feel the sorrow completely. She was no longer the cityโs songbird. She was simply a woman, alone with her memories, letting the rain sing the last song.
Pลekrรกsnรฉ...
Hudba i ten hlas je nรกdhernรฝ.
Pลesnฤ do tฤchto temnรฝch dnลฏ. ๐ค
The melody is โค touching that peace of heaven.
One of your best jobs ever, CONGRATS!
Thank you very much โค
I Love the story, and the ambience, of being transported to another time and place, Thankyou. โค
Super
โค