Of Tunes and Words

The words and tunes escaped freely out of the boys’ mouth. His eyes were glazed, not really focusing on the environment around him.  The rain was pouring down from the cloudy sky, wetting his long, ragged hair, soaking his thin, torn clothes.

The small boy looked truly pathetic, sitting abandoned and alone on a large rock, far away from any human civilization in the cold, rainy evening; humming his tune and singing his words.

Autumn had stated now, and the leaves had turned red and orange and yellow. The chilly northern wind was playing with the fallen leaves on the ground.

But still he sat there, humming his tunes and singing his words. As if the meaningless, incoherent words actually meant anything, as if the words and tunes were magical. Perhaps that was one of the few things the tiny boy had left; his imagination and hope for a better future.

The days and nights flew by, and still he sat at the rock, never moving while humming his tunes and singing his words. How the boy managed to survive the cold weather and without food or water for so long, can only be explained by a miracle.

But eventually, in the middle of humming his tune and singing his words, the boy fell into a peaceful sleep.

Even now, if you’re venturing, if you were to find a huge rock in the middle of nowhere, far away from any city or settlements on a cold, rainy autumn eve, you can see that little boy sitting on that rock, still humming his tune and singing his words.

by RulernAvOst

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