Another little story.


There was once a man, his passion was to play the organ; he made appearances wherever an organ could be found. His towering stature, long shaggy black hair, creamy white skin with a few lines on his face and pale blue eyes; peered at the keys, decided what he wanted to play. He sat down on the bench, and started, loud, and fearful; the expression on his face was as though he was trying to ward something off, or perhaps drown something out, I could not begin to imagine what this might be, but it must have been terrifying, and horrific...

His expressions changed along with his music, from the fearful expression, to raging anger, fire lit in his eyes as his face contorted from one expression to the next; almost unrecognizable even though his true appearance never changed. As he changed to anger I could do nothing, but sit there, in complete and utter, befuddled awe. The sounds he composed upon this instrument were of a brilliance I had not once experienced before that moment. His long slender fingers floated almost ghostly over they keyboards. Sometimes it was like his hands disappeared, and he was just looking at the keyboards, commanding the organ to play this, and it complied.

The music began to switch tempo, up a bit higher, a little more upbeat, and he moved with the music, as if his entire body was turning into this sound; his face relaxed and looked soft as well as blank. Maybe it was that he managed to transpose all his feeling onto the organ, and it dispersed into the air, and out into the world. His black locks flowed as though they were in water, slowly floating through the air as though it were a much denser liquid. His expression began to change again, from that blank look to a faint smile, as if all he really needed in the entire world was an organ, and somebody to watch and listen. He looked straight at me while he smiled, and I saw his eyes had become a much more lustrous blue, and the pale shallowness had been removed and filled with deep shine.

The more I listened to him play, the more relaxed I became. The longer I watched, the shinier, and healthier his hair appeared to become. His skin was no longer so pale his cheeks now had a bit of colour, his lines and sunken cheeks began to fill. It was as though something were nourishing him, and making him once again completely healthy. His dry cracked lips became once again soft, full, and smooth. I noticed he was really quite charming.

His entire countenance and appearance had changed, as if he were now younger. I was still in awe and disbelief that anyone could create such a beautiful sound, and I had to applaud him. My boney hands, clapping; had my hands always been so skeletal? I rose from my seat; my knees creaked, and I felt pain in my back. My performer bowed and began to make his leave, and as he walked past I called to him "Please stay!" My raspy voice, why had I not noticed it sounded hoarse before? "What was it that you were playing just now?" As I spoke it felt like if I went any louder my lungs would pop, I was out of breath, when did this happen?

He walked past me and looked sad, but he smiled, and said with such authenticity that I almost swooned, "I was playing for you." And with that he continued on, his perfection, slowly fading into the distance. Mine it seemed had already faded; in what seemed like such a long time ago; although it had only been a few hours I do believe.

"Please don't go!" I cried and reached for him my skeleton like hand and arm grabbing at the air, empty air, and I tried to chase after him; my knees were so stiff, and nowhere near limber. It was as though I spent an eternity listening to that music, the music that seemed to be of youth, then why was it I felt so old...? Had I forgotten my youth in that song?

His footsteps echoed throughout the hall, tapping light and gentle. I called out to him, "Please don't go! Please come back!" The only response I got was a wave of his hand as he walked away, it felt good that he even acknowledged me, and I felt comforted. Even in my current state, just knowing that somebody like him too notice of me created a sense that I could hold my own; keep a sense of belonging. "What is your name?" I suddenly blurted out.

He stopped and stood there for a while, under the hanging chandeliers, and stained glass portraits of men long dead; standing under the coloured light, flooding into the hall, the beings that even though dead withstood the test of time; it almost looked as if they were all looking at him. He turned around and looked at me; it looked as if he were lamenting something; as though he was eternal. Then he spoke his name, in that voice, that resonant voice that carried through the hall, and felt like it carried through my body as well. I quaked as he spoke, "My name, my dear is Tempus, and I will do anything for you if you know me, and ask; genuinely wanting what you ask for." I felt as though my energy was returning; however, slightly. As it returned I got up and chased after Tempus, becoming less and less tired as I drew nearer.

I caught up to him, Tempus. I grabbed his flowing black coat by the sleeve and looked up at him towering above me. "Then I ask of you Tempus... please stay and talk to me..." And I saw his bright blue eyes light up, "We can get to know one another, maybe you can play the organ for me again?"

"What is your name?" Again that voice carried through everything. I closed my eyes and he caressed my face so gently I barely noticed, but I knew it was there, there was the sense that he was there.

"My name..." I had to think about it, it felt so long it seemed since I had spoken my name, "Penna, I think." I opened my eyes and he was smiling down on me.

"That's a wonderful name, soft and light, just like you I imagine." Tempus looked as though he was happy, or almost happy. The corners of his mouth pulling his lips into a gentle smile.

I put my arms around his neck, "My hands," I thought "they look smooth again." All the pain had disappeared, and the stiffness in my knees was gone. I was remembering just how young I was. "Tempus, please play the organ again."

"Yes Penna, for you, I will."

He held my hand and walked back up the isle between the rows, upon rows of benches, under all the crystalline the chandeliers. Throughout the entire hall his footsteps echoed. I followed his grace, and elegance, embarrassed that I was nothing near his level of excellence. We sat beside one another on the wooden bench in front of the organ. His long slender fingers lay upon the keys so delicately; he started to play another song and it filled me with energy. He moved across the keyboard as though he were barely touching it and just thinking of the keys that needed to be pressed and as he ran his fingers across they were pressed. The song seemed to continue forever, and despite that I felt no hunger, no thirst, or at all tired. I felt alive, and I felt time move around me as though it was right beside me, warming me. All seemed to crumble away around us. The organ, tearing away at the buildings, and the entire world. I could hear the faint sound of metal crashing to the ground, and glass shattering. It felt incredible, my eyes closed, holding onto Tempus, my friend. Tempus felt as though he could heal all wounds, and scars; he gave off such a powerful feel. He just flowed, like the ages.

As he finished his song, all that was around, well that was just it, it was around, and the only thing that remained recognizable was the organ, and the smashed chandeliers, as well as the crumbled walls of the hall, "How was that Penna? Was it what you wanted?" he asks smiling, "was this the ending you desired for us?"

"Tempus... where... are we?" as I looked around at the landscape, I recognized some of it, but it is dark, and me and him are still here.
"What do you mean? We're where we have always been."

"He sounds so genuine, I can't disbelieve that." I thought. Then I said, "It just... looks so different..." I continued to look around and Tempus stood up, holding my hand, as if he were to let go I would also crumble to dust. He didn't let go of my hand, and every once in a while we would go back the organ, and I would listen to him play things in and out of existence.

"Penna, I am happy you came with me."

"I'm glad you're finally happy."

We sat there wondering what we would do, all of time is at my disposal, but i don't know that. Tempus smiled all the time, and even now he will let go of my hand sometimes, not for too long though. Even when he let go of my hand he smiled. I am not sure why, but he is always happy now, Tempus... my dearest friend and companion... I hope we stay this way.