Melanie Moorhead  

        +                                        ⅗
Mallory Cobb was a strange boy; some would consider him an outcast. Was
it because of his shaggy hair or was it the delighted smile that lit up your day with
his ragged worn-out pants with holes and caked in mud? With every chance he
got, Cobb traveled far. Far out where you could only hear the rushing white water
and the croaking of the horny-back toad. He hopped and skipped over the
cleavage rocks and vast rotten logs. Cobb watched as the moist humidity of the
morning creeped into the afternoon. His eyes searching for the perfect place to
relax and kick-back, finally they landed on a mammoth-sized boulder with an
unusual split through the middle. Cobb took a step back and leaped over the
creek, landing on the pebbled sand. Gripping onto the rock, Cobb fit his fingers in
the cracks and climbed up the steep rock. Reaching the top, Cobb flopped over
with a huff and stared up into the late-summer skies. When the tree swayed with
the gentle breeze, they realized it was time to change colors, when many people
admired them the most. Cobb's hands glazed over the rock then sat up, looking
around at the crystal clear creek down beneath him. This day was like every other
summer day for Cobb. But these were his favorites, when nothing is out of the
ordinary or at least Cobb thought. He jerked up when a peculiar sound entered
his ears. Sweet like ice cream on a hot day, but sad like the melancholy of the cold
frost-bitten wind on a winter’s night.
There was something enticing about the melody and Cobb just had to
follow. At first it started with a slow walk and then it turned into jumping over
logs and running over creeks as fast as he could. When he arrived, where the
creek split into a Y, Cobb cupped one of his ears to hear the sound better. It
sounded like someone was playing the strings. He looked out searching for the
source of the sound but nothing showed. He sighed and retraced his steps back to
the boulder and stayed there for the next hour or two. As the wind fastened and
the clouds moved and the sun began to set to go to sleep, Cobb grabbed his stuff
and headed back home. He went to his shaggy house that looked like it could fall
over with just one huff of breath. As he reached out, his hands trembled slightly
and turned the cold knob. He let out a pitiful greeting to the house. 
Cobb hollered out “I’m home!”
 Like usual, there was an angry gruff and was followed by his mom
mumbling over the phone to a complaining customer. Cobb sighed and headed
upstairs. He felt like he was stuck in a loop. Wake up, go out to the woods, come
home, and go to sleep. As he walked into his bathroom, he turned on the shower.
Cupping a handful of lukewarm water, Cobb splashed his face. After taking a
shower, he dried off and got into his pajamas, jumped into his bed, and stared at
the blank void of the ceiling above him. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a
dreamless sleep. 
When the sun woke up, Cobb wasn't ready. Shining into his blinds, forcing
him to twist and toss in his bed until he stumbled out into the bathroom. Thick
puffy eye bags bulged out from under his eyes. Cobb grabbed his towel, sticking it
under the faucet. Ringing out the leftover water, he blotted it on his face. Then
taking the sand-paper rough side of the prune colored towel and dried off his
face. Looking back up into the hairspray speckled mirror, Cobb grabbed his
pocketknife. He put on his clothes and raced down the stairs, grabbing his leather
bag. He was about to head out the door until a flowery thick scent entered his
nose. Without turning around, Cobb muttered good morning to his mother.
Looking in the reflection on the window, he could see his mom smile and continue
talking to her customer from the other day. Cobb’s mother has always been
obsessed with work as long as he can remember. Maybe that's one of the reasons
why his father had left her.
 Cobb grabbed his coat and headed out back into the shortcut to the
woods. On his way, he saw a few of his classmates muttering to themselves. He
walked up and tapped on a girl's shoulder who had sleek blonde hair and green
eyes with a shirt on and shorts. She whipped around like a snake and asked “may I
help you?”
Cobb spoke, “Oh yes, do you all know anything about music and the woods
around here?” 
A brunette girl butted in, “Do we know anything? Who doesn't in this old
town-- oh sorry, I guess you don't.”
 Cobb rolled his eyes and continued to listen to the brunette speak.
“Rumor has it that over a century ago, an old man dropped off a cursed harp
trapping his daughter’s soul to it because she disobeyed him and played it long
ago. It was her fate to forever stay with the harp until freed. Many people in town
try to play it but they only get this eerie blood curdling screech out of it. All of the
adults in town believe that it's broken but as teenagers know the truth.”
Cobb cut her off with an exclamation “What truth!?” but was quickly
shushed by the blonde haired girl. “Let her finish, geez!”
The brunette nodded and continued to speak. “Like I said, we know the
truth, the harp is waiting-”
Cobb butted in again, “waiting for what?”
The brunette looked like she was about to slap him in the face and
frowned, “Let me finish. The harp is waiting for the right person to pluck its
strings.” At this point, Cobb was fed up with the shushing and rude remarks from
the girls. He walked away from them mid-sentence.
As he walked away he shouted, “Thanks!”
At the edge of the woods, Cobb heard the melody again. This time he was
curious about it. Racing out, he passed the earthy scents and vast pine trees and
into the small field back to where the creek split into a Y. There it was, standing
there was a huge dappled-golden harp that winded upwards towards the sun,
almost like it wanted to reach for the trees. The strings swayed gently in the soft
breeze. Cobb walked up to the regal looking harp, glazing his fingers over each
nook and cranny Cobb finally reached the strings and plucked one of them making
a blood curdling screech come from it. 
A wave of guilt flooded over him so much that he didn't hear the rushing
sound of the river or the birds in the forest. He looked up and saw a leaf floating
in midair. Everything was as still as a pebble except for a shadow in the trees that
walked closer and closer, passing through Cobb as if he weren’t even there. The
shadow smiled widely when she saw the harp and was about to pluck one of the
strings until a man walked up to her, shaking his head no. She frowned at the old
man with his gray hair. He took her by her hand and took her away while
muttering inaudible things. Cobb didn't even notice how old their clothes looked
until he realized that was the man everyone spoke about. A second later,
everything returned to normal. Cobb felt the urge to pluck the string one more
time to witness the event again. But this time, only angelic music played. He kept
on plucking the strings in a  rhythm, pausing at each beat and then repeated it
until he remembered the sound from earlier. He tried to reimagine what the harp
would sound like. In the distance he saw the girl from the past. He continued to
play and watched her, seeing a soft smile appear on her face and walked away. He
saw glowing crystals tear off of her and disappear into the air until she was fully
gone. He heard a whisper in his ear thanking him for freeing her. Cobb’s eyes
widened, and he couldn't help but feel happy for the girl. And for the first time in
a long time, he genuinely felt grateful for what he had.  
Over the next couple of years, Cobb grew up playing the harp and
becoming a famous well-known musician who toured all over the world. You
might ask how I know about that. Well, I was there when it all happened, and I
disappeared when he saved me.  But I never really disappeared.