Creative Writing "The Music"

He was quiet, soft-spoken, polite; he was completely without fault for the things that his wonderful music caused. The musician's music was so beautiful, so glorious while the notes floated through the sky, that the Sun himself refused to sleep, for fear that some nuance from the songs would be missed.

Persistently, the sun shone bright, leaving the villagers with beautiful - but so honestly bothersome - bright days for far too long. The man played his songs still, however, though the villagers made clear that they wanted the music to stop.

Two weeks passed with the villagers trying their best to keep the crops from dying, to keep their people from frying beneath the heating rays. They tried their best to get the musician to cease his music, thus letting the sun go down.

The man played, still - too caught within the notes his music made.

The sun continued to shine.

The villagers told the man that he had to stop his music. When he realized, finally, what his music was doing to the town, he complied to their commands. Stopping his song with flourish, the man gathered his things together, then turned down the path that led beyond the village. The sun finally went beneath the horizon.

Night came.

Things went back to normal. Day, then night, then day. The village was peaceful, content, happy with their worldly balance.

But - though none confirmed that this was true - there was quite the feeling that something was missing, something that floated through the village like the wind. Something so beautiful, so wondrous, that the Sun himself would refuse to sleep for fear that he could miss just the littlest note, the smallest detail.

Though the night was soothing, calming, cool - though the sun had become quite the nuisance with that persistent light - there was something missing from the villagers' lives.

They missed the music.