Song 4

Several years passed, and Meloria, now three years old, sat on the sofa beside her mother, who was swollen with their next child. Meloria hummed, rubbing a hand on her mother’s stomach. “Can you feel that?” Her mother laughed, feeling the baby kick beneath her. She took Meloria’s hand into her own, moving it to the side where the baby kicked. Meloria’s eyes widened as she felt the tiny foot kick again. “What would you like, a brother or a sister?”

“Hmm,” Meloria looked up, pretending to think as she felt the baby kick again, making her feel giddy. In her previous life, Meloria was the youngest in her family and wasn’t too involved with her nephew’s birth, so all this was a new experience for her. “A brother,” she finally replied with a toothy grin, making her mother chuckle.

“Not a little sister?” Her mother teased, rubbing the tip of her nose against Meloria’s.

Oh, dear mother, Meloria laughed nervously to herself. I grew up with women for 30 years; a little brother might be a godsend to me. “No, a brother!” Meloria laughed, hugging her mother’s tummy tightly.

Meloria rubbed her mother’s stomach in small circle motions, closing her eyes and putting an ear to the belly. Her smile grew wider as she was able to hear small echoes of the baby’s kicking. She started to tap along gently against her mother’s stomach, creating a beat alongside her unborn sibling. “As we travel up the hill, what adventures we will find,” Meloria’s voice was soft as she sang. Gentle tones that carried through the womb, encouraging the baby to kick more. Her mother’s eyes widened as Meloria continued. Her heart sank as she had to pull Meloria off her stomach and place a finger on her lips to stop her. “Mama,” Meloria mumbled against her finger.

Her mother smiled, moving the finger away to stroke Meloria’s growing orange locks. “My dear little Meloria,” Her voice was gentle, wanting to teach her not to scold her. “What was that right now?”

Meloria raised a brow, tilting her head. “I was singing,” she replied with her childlike innocence. “Was it not very good?”

Her mother gave a slight chuckle, shaking her head. “Your singing was lovely,” she grimaced at the word ‘singing’. She sighed heavily, her chest tight, looking at the worry in her daughter’s eyes. “I’m afraid we do not sing.”

No singing! Meloria screamed internally. But how, or why? “But mama-”

Her mother shook her head, trying to assure her daughter. “While it’s very lovely, singing isn’t something that is welcomed.”

As she tried to find the words, her father came walking in, a satchel overflowing with papers under his arm. He strode over, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. With a large smile, he reached over the back of the sofa, leaning down and kissing his wife’s cheek. “Darling,” she whispered, taking his hand and tilting her head to gesture towards Meloria. “I think someone needs a history lesson.”

He looked to Meloria, whose eyes were glassy with tears, and he nodded, understanding what was needed. He placed his satchel down on his desk before replacing it with Meloria, holding her tightly in his arms. “You and I,” he chuckled as he headed towards the door, grabbing the small coat hanging on the wall. “We are going to go for a walk.”

“Papa?” Meloria looked up at her father’s thoughtful face as he set her down on the ground. “Where are we going? Am I in trouble?”

Her father shook his head, taking her hand and began to guide her through the woods situated at the back of their home. The sound of the birds chirping carried through the trees as father and daughter navigated their way over the dirt paths, ducking low to avoid low-hanging branches. “Going on through the tree, you’ll never know what you might see…” her father began to sing as they ventured on. “Look up high, you’ll find the birds, look down low, you’ll see the soil, where the flowers bloom and grow, guiding us on our way.”

Meloria felt her heart begin to race, her father's voice untrained, yet the way he sang the words resonated with her. Made her feel as if she was embarking on a journey with him, wanting to sing about all the creatures she could see in the forest. Though, why was he singing? Her father picked her up into his arms once more, holding her tightly as they approached an opening. A small pond, trickling to the nearby river, sat in the middle, surrounded by logs where they could rest their feet. “Pretty,” Meloria laughed, her eyes sparkling as she saw the beauty of nature in front of her.

Her father sat down on the log, keeping Meloria securely in his lap, ensuring she remained close by. “It is, isn’t it?” He chuckled, putting his chin on her head, hugging her tightly. “Just like you, my little singer.”

“Papa?” Meloria looked up, her lips forming into a slight pout. “Why did Mama say I couldn’t sing? Singing is fun.”

Her father sighed, his mind pondering the many ways to break the news to a child that singing, while beautiful, was a perilous thing. “Let me tell you the story of a songstress who sought only fame,” he began to tell the tale. Meloria’s gaze never left his face as he told the horrific tale of why singing came to be taboo.

Many years ago, there was a young songstress, her hair as golden as the sun, her eyes green as the spring grass, and a voice that could rival an angel. From a young age, her voice could draw in crowds big enough to fill a palace three times over, and people would never tire of hearing her sweet harmonies. Nobles and men of high rank showered her with gifts and marriage proposals regularly.

However, one day, the crowds stopped coming….

The gatherings were no longer as large as they used to be, and as she grew older and her body aged, men began to toss her aside. At one performance, her voice began to crackle and break, causing the crowd to disperse and never return.

The songstress seemed to disappear afterwards. All performances in the royal halls were cancelled, men stopped flocking to her, and her career was now silent.

Many up-and-coming performers started to take the stage, but none could rival the songstress at the pinnacle of her glory. Though they tried, and this angered the songstress as she sat in the crowds, shrouded by disguise, to learn of the people trying to dethrone her.

Her blood boiled with anger; jealousy raged through her veins. This couldn’t be. She was the number one songstress, not these children pretending to be. Off vocals, sloppy choreography, and ear-splitting instrumentals; it was a disgrace to performers, to her.

Seeking to return to her reign, the songstress sought out a way to get her voice back. Deep in the caves, she came across a well inhabited by a demon. This demon promised her everything she had once lost, but it was too much, and it all came at a price. To maintain the contract with the demon, she must offer up the life force of what she held dear, her fans. The more she offered, the stronger she became.

Soon her voice returned and became hypnotic. Her fans were now drawn to her not out of admiration but because of trickery. After each performance, fans would leave feeling empty and yet drawn back to her concerts, with each song, a little more of their light force would be drained.

“When people learnt of what the songstress was doing, they stopped going to her concerts,” Meloria’s father kept a serious tone as he continued the story. He looked down at her, patting her head and smiling softly. “When she failed to give him the live force he needed, the demon locked the songstress away, and now whenever someone hears a song, they cower in fear for their lives.”

Visibly annoyed, Meloria jumped off her father’s lap, turning to him with a stern face, her hands on her hips. “No,” she exclaimed.

“Meloria?” her father whispered.

“No, singing is beautiful and is meant to make people happy,” Meloria proclaimed, her face softening and holding her arms out. “When you sing, Papa, it makes me happy.”

“Yes, well,” her father laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“And that’s what I’m going to do, “Meloria giggled, pointing to the sky. “I’m going to sing and make everyone happy again. I’m going to become everyone’s idol.”