Music of the Night

Silent. Hidden. Empty. Twilight fell and a crunch of iron cut through the chilled darkness.

Wrought iron gates towered tall into the heavens, though this strange place was so far beneath the ground, no matter how high they climbed they would never escape from this land of eternal darkness. Now open, the iron pressed into the chasm like caving in the rock. The rock was rough to the touch and the place the metal pressed against was almost totally undented as if the gates had not been parted in many years, though the iron was totally clear of rust. Little light shone upon the gates.

A gondola emerged between the parted gates with gold leaf climbing up. It seemed as if the gold had crept up from the watery depths of the lake that the gondola floated upon and clung to the sides, almost in an attempted to drown it. At the bow, a small glassy lantern hung, suspended from a hook. It didn’t seem to swing with the soft, slow movement of the boat and cast a shadowy glare onto the surface of the lake. The lake itself was black. It did not ripple with the mechanism of the boat and was covered with a thick pearly white veil of mist which swirled upon the facet, illuminated by the dim light of the lantern. Along the edge of the lake, the rough rock, lined with lit waxy candles, led to a fallen stone pillar with ornate golden feathering at the peak. Now depleted.

Beside the fallen pillar, another erect column emerged from the rock of the bank of the lake. It towered to the ceiling of the cavernous hall and pressed up onto it connecting the floor celling, a stalagmite rising from the earth. Around its peak, black silk hug. Draped from the roof, a phantasmal illusion, of sorts. It shimmered in some unseen light, though this place seemed to be filled with darkness. Beyond the pillars, a shallow flight of steps, cast into the stone, leading up further into the cutting darkness. Artificial, in the this seemingly silent place.

The steps were illuminated by tall waxy candles with an odd almost lunar luminance. Their light reflected itself in the black waters of the lake and swam deeper and deeper until it became part of the lake itself, shooting its soft light back up until it reached the roof and cast itself all around the cave once more.

Beyond the steps, a Brobdingnagian organ stood proudly, almost silhouetted by the tall, opulent candelabras placed either side, creating it to be an altar-like centre piece which seemed somewhat out of place here. The hard oak of the organ was perfect, uncuffed and polished. The pipes shot up to the heavens and gleamed in the light produced by the candles that lined the room, their metallic glint cast itself onto the surface of the lake. A single piece of sheet music, pure unblemished parchment with inky black notes inscribed, sat upon the music stand. A wedding march.

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