A sharp siren cut through the monotonous whirring and thumping of the Grand Pistons, snapping Melody from her trance-like slumber. Perched on the walls high above the vast jungle of concrete, she watched as, one by one, the people emerged from their meagre homes. This had always been her favourite part of the day, the calm of night giving ground to the chaos of day; gradually building into a roaring crescendo as the ant-like people of her home town rushed about their business. For those brief moments, the whir-thump, whir-thump of the Grand Pistons was almost drowned out by the cacophony of the morning commute. It always seemed to her that this was when people were being their sincerest self; there was a certain serenity in that.
That feeling of serenity never did stay with Melody for long and almost before it began, the little people fell back into line with the whir-thump, whir-thump which underpinned everything that happened in this town. Her head dropped and chest sunk slightly as she mourned for their loss of freedom, stuck in a race with no end. Still, she was glad that she had been able to watch today. Tired of the monotonous grind, filled with regret and loss, Melody took one last look at the sun rising above the man-made skyline before stepping forward off her perch.
The wind compressed her face as Melody plummeted head first, a flicker of a thought passed her mind that the air was turning colder; it would hardly matter. Letting her thoughts wander, she recalled her grandmother talking of a great parkland which dominated the city centre. She had marvelled at the sound of it and was positively delighted by the imagery of picnicking families pointing out the butterflies and birds as they flew amongst the trees. The lands had long since been reclaimed for some important concrete buildings. A sound that came out as a bitter chirp left Melody as she thought to herself; I wonder if anyone is pointing at me now?
Having halved the distance to the ground, Melody snapped her wings open, the wind ruffling her brown-speckled feathers as she slowed her descent and levelled into a circling glide around the old parkland.
Runic Rumblings 