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With a sudden jolt, Thomas was awake. The warm embrace of reality sent a shiver running down his spine. “Today my family depends on me.” Thomas thought, and with a small sigh he rolled out of bed.The old man winced as he heard his beloved Isabel shift in her sleep. Isabel was younger than Thomas. However, Thomas was convinced she, like all wives, required far more time-at-rest. Thomas crept quietly to the door at the end of the cabin, took up his tools and satchel, and headed out into the early dawn mist.
Surrounded by a lush green forest, Thomas could not resist a small crooked smile. Thomas, not a forager by trade, had once been a well-known bard. Thomas had been quite the profitable weaver of lyric and melody. Those days had long past. However, there was one unfinished piece that had always haunted his mind. Thomas began to whistle this piece.
After a substantial distance was put between Thomas and the cabin; the bard looked around at the giant mushrooms, and mighty pine trees.
“This will make a fine camp.” Thomas said softly. The sudden noise made Thomas shudder, he quickly resumed whistling.
Thomas built a small fire and proceeded to craft the remaining wood into a bowl and a cup. With a small handful of mushrooms and a tiny satchel of water, Thomas boiled a stew. “That will have to do.” Thomas thought. The bard extinguished the fire, and proceeded into the dark forest.
After carefully minding the presence of wild chickens, boar, and wolves, and carefully crossing gulches and ravines; at last; Thomas spied a cave and peered inside. The cave walls consisted of wind-sheered stone, and glinted of various minerals. The cave echoed Thomas’s whistling. Annoyed at the change in sound, Thomas stopped himself and enjoyed the silence of the cave. Thomas sat down next to his tools, closed his eyes, and with a small sigh, the bard thought "How nice this silence is."
The bard grew very fond of the cave, carving out it’s innards to his liking. Thomas caught several wild chickens and allowed them entrance. Yet, the bard was unsatisfied. Thomas marked several trees and proceeded even further into the woods. Thomas became hungry over the next couple of days, and his whistling began to fail him. Yet, in the moments where silence should have been, the song continued. Soon enough the bard had ran out of food, and the sky had not wept for five star-lights. The piece of music Thomas had never finished rang loudly in his ears. Wincing, Thomas turned abruptly, setting off towards his home and his family.
Cursing his foolishness, Thomas began to starve. Thomas began to question every tree that passed him. “I should be home by now.” Thomas thought. At last, Thomas saw home through the mist. The bard collapsed and crawled shakily to the door. Thomas’s heartbeat pounded like a drum to the unfinished song roaring in his head. Thomas reached for the door, but the handle would not allow his grasp. Whimpering, Thomas closed his eyes. The bard’s heartbeat and insanity accompanied the light forming in his mind. “This is death?” thought Thomas, unimpressed.
Suddenly, a large chicken balked, "BA-KWAAAH!" with all of its strength. Thomas opened his eyes and looked at the chicken. The bard's eyes were wide, and quizzical. Shooing the wild hen, Thomas sat up with a start and slowly began to laugh. Thomas had not laughed in a very long time. “This damned cave!” Thomas exclaimed while laughing hysterically. There were no carvings on the cave walls, or captured wild chickens. The hen that had woke him darted away from the sound and the bard could hear the forest stirring under the dusk and star light. Thomas gathered and foraged as much as he could carry. “That will do it then!” said Thomas decisively. Thomas headed home, whistling the same song that had haunted him in his dream.
At last, the bard bounded through the door, much to the surprise of Isabel and the children. “Hello! Hello! Here you go! There you are!” said Thomas. The bard hugged his wife; ignoring her bewilderment, he continued, “Much to explain, but allow me time, for I have writing to do.” His enthusiasm left Isabel speechless.
The bard jumped to the back of the cabin, to his dusty writing desk, where he found the parchment belonging to the unfinished song. Thomas dipped the pointed nib of his quill into a small glass inkwell, and proceeded to scribble frantically.
Isabel began to smile.