Nephele and Faye

Tiny raised his beer. "To Shirley."

"To Shirley," the others replied in hushed unison and raised their beers.

In the long silence that followed, my eyes wandered over to the piano in the corner. It reminded me of the night Nephele played that song. The night I started to fall in love with her. The piano would forever be a sad reminder, as long as it stood there. A symbol of the tragedies in my life for as long as it stands. So, an idea came to me. Maybe I wouldn't be able to attend her funeral, but there was a way -- my own way -- in which I could say goodbye.

I went around the bar counter, past Tiny and the sullen pilots. They all watched with silent curiosity, their heads following me, wondering what I was up to.

I grabbed the back edge of one corner of the piano and pulled. It swung out on its wheels. I aimed it out towards the door, then went to the other side of the piano to pull it away from the wall. Then I pushed it across the bar to the door while the pilots moved out of the way. It came to a door jamb with a thud. Its strings rang dissonantly.

One of the pilots understood my plan, at least vaguely. He came over to the opposite side of the piano and helped me hoist the wheels up and over the door jamb.

Two more pilots came over to help push the piano over the threshold and down the two steps past the door.

A cold squall breeze blew strongly in through the doors. The curling waves on the beach were large and glowed silver-blue in the moonlight and crashed with droning roars and hissed as they passed over the sand.

We pushed the piano across the street, hoisted it onto the sidewalk's curb, then shoved it through the sand on the beach on the other side. Several other pilots joined in to help to move the piano across the beach. Together, we carried it to the wet line that the water drew across the sand. The rest gathered around.

I ran back into the bar to grab a plastic soda bottle of kerosene I had stored beneath the bar counter and a lighter and ran back out onto the beach to the piano, and I doused it thoroughly with the kerosene. Then, I flicked the lighter and tossed it onto its top.

The piano caught with a quick roaring flash and lit up the beach, surrounding us in a sphere of orange light.

The top wood panel caught first. It snapped and popped and burned quickly. It burned brighter and brighter, and pieces from the top fell inwards into the body of the piano. Every time the wood splintered, orange sparks flew into the sky in long spirals.

Soon the fire was hot enough that the taut piano wires snapped, and when they snapped, they twanged with the notes they were strung to play. The wires snapped sparingly at first but came more frequently until they snapped with some discernible musical rhythm as if some phantom piano player played at it. It was a stilted, haunting tune. A beautiful tune. A sort of requiem.

The tune moved me to burning tears. I turned my head into Tiny's chest and heaved as I cried.

Epilogue - Homecoming

After the successful invasion, the Black Rose became emboldened and started to attack the checkpoints and the roving military police officers. A week after the Skybreakers left, the first Allied troops entered the city.

The atmosphere was pure joy. Estean flags and banners with the Estean colors went up. Colors that were banned for nearly three years. Firecrackers were shot out into the street. The Allied troops marched in as if they were part of a parade rather than a liberation force. Women went out to join the parade, putting arms around them, blowing kisses, and placing beads around their necks and flowers in their helmets.

Although I suppose I should, I didn't share any of the joy. There was only a jaded listlessness in my heart.

Everyone, of course, noticed my shaved head. Most responded to it with pity and compassion. Some, however, treated me with spitting disgust. One man ordered a pint only to douse me with it. I wasn't sure what was worse, the disgust or the pity.

The sky was particularly blue the day I left Alexandria. I was dying to see a familiar face. So, I went to go see Noah. I wanted to see that he was doing ok. After the liberation, I would be safe to go to him.

I drove my car. Took the long way around on the route along the coast. I passed the lighthouse where Nephele and I made love in the rain. From there, it was another two hours drive to the ranch.

The ranch was in the mountain valley by the coast, where many high pastures on which cattle grazed peacefully. They dotted the green grass and seemed at peace.

At the gate, I pulled off in front of a pair of familiar oak trees. A tire swing hung on a branch of one of the oak trees. It was a new swing. To see it cheered me up a little. It meant that there were children here to swing on it.

The gate was shut, but only with a loosely tied piece of rope, which I had to get out of the car to untie. It wasn't meant to keep any burglars out but to keep in the pastured cows and horses that would have otherwise wandered out onto the road.

I untied it and drove down the dirt driveway to the house in the shade of an old birch. An old metal windmill stood tall beside it, spinning gently in the wind, creaking with every slow rotation. Eli's old pickup was in the driveway. It looked clean save for the splatter of fresh mud on the sidewalls. Noah must have been using it.

I pulled up next to it, and when I got out of the car, the familiar scent of this farm flooded me with memories. I could still pick out every scent. The young lavender from the fields around the house, the jasmine which had just bloomed, as they do in the dusk, the red roses that climbed up the walls, and the orange blossoms from the orchard in the valley. Bees buzzed around these flowers, gathering pollen for their honey. We kept bees here in my childhood. You could taste the oranges and the lavender in the honey.

This ranch overlooked an expansive bay where the sun set. In that bay was a fishing town, a twenty-minute drive away. This was a place where I could live and not worry too much about anything. I once did when I was young, though I wasn't sure if the happiness came from living here or being a child. Perhaps I could stay here and try to find that happiness again. But I still had the bar, and though there was not a lot left for me there, I couldn't let it go.

Noah came bursting out the front door. The screen door slapped shut behind him, and he jumped into my arms. He was breathless and excited to see me. More so than I would have imagined. It made me feel good.

"You're not going to believe this," he said, skipping with excitement.

He grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the house with so much gusto that he caused me to stumble. When we got to the door, I stopped him.

"Alright, Noah! Settle down!" I laughed. I looked him in the eyes and saw happiness in them. It made me want to hug him again, so I did. I held him tightly for a long time, and he squeezed back, but I could feel he was still impatient.

That's when I heard it -- the sound of the piano playing in the sunroom in the back. The sound stopped my heart. Noah smiled wide, then opened the door to let me in.

I followed the piano music to the sunroom, where dusty sunbeams came through the dusty glass and drenched the room with a honey gold light.

The piano sat against a wall on the far side of the sunroom. I had to hold my heart when I saw the shape of a woman sitting on the piano bench.

Noah said softly, "a friend in a trawler out at the rock spotted her plane go down. Found her in the water. No one else knows she's here."

When she realized we were behind her, she stopped playing, slid the piano bench back, grabbed a crutch that leaned against the side of the piano, and used it to help herself stand. Then turned and faced me. She shook the bangs from her eyes. Her lovely eyes.

"Hey, Faye."

Noah had to hold me up. I had nearly fainted. Meanwhile, Nephele hobbled over to me with her crutch. I hugged her and gave her a multitude of kisses.

"You're alive," I sputtered, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I didn't have a choice," she said. "I made a promise. I had to keep it."

The End.

Thank you very much for taking the time out of your day to read my story. It is an honor to share it with you fine people. I really hope you enjoyed it. If you did (or even if you didn't) please give it a rating and leave a comment. Feedback is how I get better at writing!

P.S. If this story had an OST:

Bygone Days -- Joe Hisaishi (from the movie Porco Rosso)

Swept Away -- The Avett Brothers

Go! -- M83

Spring 1 -- Max Richter/Vivaldi

Arirang -- Lang Lang

La Vie en Rose -- Edith Piaf

Nocturne No. 19 in E Minor -- Chopin

Story of You -- Alexis Ffrench

Edge of Seventeen -- Stevie Nicks

La Mer -- Charles Tenet

Show Me Love -- Big Wild (ft. Hundred Waters)

Under Your Spell -- College (ft. Electric Youth) (from the movie Drive <3)

Rhiannon -- Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks was a real muse for this story)

P.P.S. I'd be remiss not to mention that this story is heavily inspired by the videogame Ace Combat 04: Shattered Skies. It's an old game - one I played ALOT with my brother and sister growing up - but it has one of the most beautiful and unique methods of storytelling ever.

I've also taken inspiration (maybe obviously) from Top Gun and one of my most favorite Studio Ghibli movies, Porco Rosso