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Icy Sedgwick

Fantasy fiction & folklore!

#FridayFlash – Life Song

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A young man sits opposite Poppy on the train, a large folder open on his lap. Poppy tries hard not to stare at him but his old-fashioned three-piece pinstripe suit keeps catching her eye. A poppy rests in his buttonhole, even though it is far from Remembrance Day, and a bowler hat sits on the empty seat beside him. He looks up at her once, and the pale skin around his wide grey eyes crinkles as he smiles.

It's not often you get to hear your life played out as a song in a symphony, but in this slice of short fiction, Poppy gets to do exactly that!

Poppy blushes and forces her gaze away from his open, handsome face, with its neat pencil moustache and cheekbones she could ski down. She glances at the open folder as the young man looks away from her. His eyes skate across the pages, reading sheet music as one might read a book.

It's not often you get to hear your life played out as a song in a symphony, but in this slice of short fiction, Poppy gets to do exactly that!
Life Song

Without really wanting to, Poppy starts following the lines of crotchets and quavers, forming each note in her mind before bouncing to the next. She frowns more than once as it is not an easy tune, but soon she realises that it’s actually some kind of symphony. Her pianist’s eye takes over and she hums the melody, although she can hear the strings and the woodwind in her mind. It’s a strange piece, somehow both melancholy and triumphant at once, and when the young man turns the page, she recognises the music. It’s music that she has been hearing all her life, in the back of her head – it is the music of her life. This sheet music displays her, in all her glory, in staves and quavers.

The young man puts his bowler hat on, closes the folder, and stands up as the train pulls into the next station.

“That’s my music!” she blurts.

“It is, my dear. But do not worry yourself, there are still three whole movements left yet. And they’re very long movements,” he replies.

He winks, and slips out of the open doors, taking her music with him. She tries to watch him go but he’s swallowed up by the throng on the platform.

The doors close, the train lurches onward, and Poppy sits back in her seat, humming the song of her life.

If you enjoyed this story, sign up below for a copy of my free short story collection, Harbingers. Or check out my other flash fiction!

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