by Luanne Castle
after “Solar Music” by Remedios Varo
Sylvie was walking alongside Old Ven when she saw red birds circling her, flying forward, and then circling her again, as if to lead her. Old Ven, neighing softly, followed Sylvie into the Dead Woods, where the weeds and trees had withered to sturdy twigs. The birds’ brilliant color and ability to communicate intrigued Sylvia who generally had nothing better to do than to hide the butter in with the linens so Cook would grow red and blow up like an angry toad. The tutor kept her brothers busy all day, and Cook and the housekeepers kept saying, “Out of my way, you silly thing.”
Sylvie preferred to be outside in the sunlit meadow, searching for nests and feathers, but if these unique birds wanted her to follow, follow she would, into the dim endless forest. She realized that although the woods appeared dead, in fact, it abounded with life, mosses housing nematodes and spiders and armored mites.
The birds perched on nearby branches just over a clearing. There a woman wearing a cloak of moss embroidered with the name Varo held a fiddlestick and with a peaceful expression played the sunrays fanning out to spotlight a patch of hidden wildflowers. The gentlest notes could barely be heard above the birds chirping and the insects sizzling. Varo didn’t speak but held out her bow to Sylvie. When Sylvie strummed the rays they bent into funny angles, but that’s when she could really hear the music because she had created it herself. Smiling at Sylvie’s shiny eyes and rounded mouth, Varo nodded and faded away.
Sylvie played her music and danced around the rays of light, learning new ways to touch them with the stick. Then she made the best discovery of all. Instead of using the bow, Sylvie reached out and touched a ray with her finger, contorting it into the sweetest sound. She painted the sun into new music. She didn’t want to stop, but eventually Old Ven nudged her so hard she almost fell over. Now that Sylvie knew what she could do, she could go home for dinner. She would plan new compositions in her head that night in bed.
Luanne Castle’s Pushcart, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net-nominated writing has appeared in Copper Nickel, Bending Genres, Ekphrastic Review, River Teeth, Dribble Drabble Review, Does it Have Pockets, South 85, Roi Fainéant, Flash Boulevard, and many other journals. She has published four award-winning poetry collections, including Our Wolves which was First Runner-up for the Eric Hoffer Grand Prize. Luanne lives with five cats in Arizona.
