100 Day Writing Challenge
Day #4
Prompt: “Walking back home along the rim of the galaxy…”
Henok gripped the neck of his guitar as he made his way out of the concert hall. The archaic strumming of his melodies brought many people from Galaxy 9 to attend his various concerts.
Yet he felt empty.
He was on the Top 10 List of the galaxy which included the esteemed Maestro Eyoatam who could masterfully play any instrument placed in front of him. Nevertheless, Henok’s heart yearned for more. He wanted to be more than a sensation; he wanted to be a legend. He wanted his music to make a difference.
As he crossed the road, he took the path to the rim of the galaxy to watch the suns set. He connected his Life Harness to a Float Station and propelled up into the upper atmosphere. He listened to the hum of his oxygen tank.
Perhaps that is why Eoyatam can thrive in this galaxy for his musical talents. He was a native to this galaxy. He could survive off the air with no need for a contraption to regulate his breathing. He was free. Unfettered. Normal.
Not Henok. He was everything but normal. He stuck out like a sore thumb, yet it was his music that gave him solace. He fought to be acknowledged for his talent and not the way he looked.
The suns burned a deep orange as they dipped beneath the Arsema Nebula, casting a final spark into the expanse of deep galactic space. There was a silent beauty to the way the suns bid farewell to the day and introduced the Shattered Moon.
Darkness.
In cadence with the blackening sky, bio-luminescent spores ignited to life. All around him floated lights of red, orange, and blue. He cupped a green spore in his hand and carefully tossed it above him, watching as it wafted off. No matter how foreign he felt among the people of Galaxy 9, he definitely felt a connection to the life pulsating around him.
A tug at his Life Harness returned his attention back to land and he began to reel himself in. At the base of the Floating Station stood a young girl clad in torn rags. She was a native to Galaxy 9 and didn’t wear a breathing device. She grinned at him with a smile sparse a few teeth.
He coiled his harness together and attached it to his satchel. She held her hand out and motioned with it, asking for spare change. It was at that point he saw an even younger boy in hiding, clutching her leg.
A wave of spores streaked between them on a windless breeze. Henok looked into the eyes of the children before him, lunging into their spirit. He saw a history of pain and neglect. He saw a burnt out hope for any future that swooped them off the streets. He saw loneliness.
A scrawly finger plucked at his guitar string. Henok looked down at yet another child who sneaked into the encounter. The boy plucked another string with a giggle. Henok smiled and sat down in front of them, placing the guitar on his lap to serenade the kids.
His music elicited more shrill giggles. The youngest boy stepped out from behind his older sister and clapped his hands ecstatically. Henok began to play a melody from his concert, but was interrupted by yet another scrawly finger plucking at the strings. He hesitated his annoyance, and instead led the child to sit down next to him and place the guitar on his lap.
He showed the boy how to clutch the neck of the guitar to form a chord, and then he slowly slid his finger down the row of strings. The boy lit up and smiled at him. He lifted his own hand to play the chord which was rewarded with another shrill clapping from his siblings.
This is it. This is my calling.
They played for a few more minutes before Henok stood to leave for his home. They giggled and waved in farewell as Henok slipped off into the darkness of the evening. His mind explored the notion of beginning a music school for street children, offering them a small light to re-ignite their hope for a brighter future.
He gazed at the glowing Shattered Moon and sighed. Walking home by the rim of the galaxy, Henok found his destiny. He found a way to fill his spirit and make a difference. He discovered his purpose. He kindled his own ember of hope.
- (c) Kevin Barrick
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