Part 651 – What The Right Song Can Do

Isellta found a faded rose petal on the floor.

Behind the bed.

He sat on the bed and examined it.

How did it come behind the bed? Did someone throw it back there? No. That can’t be right. That doesn’t even make sense.

He smelled it.

His wings flapped.

Still smells pretty.

He put it in his pocket.

Someone knocked on the door.

Robin? No. Robin wouldn’t knock.

He’d probably kick the door down and then he’d yell at me for no good reason.

I wish he made sense.

I hope it is him.

“Come in?”

The door opened and a guard entered the room.

Isellta stood. His wings went flat against his back.

The guard stopped in front of him. “You said you had some questions for me.”

“Huh? Oh!” His wings flapped with enough force to create a bit of a draft. “You’re the guard who talked to me.”

“Yeah. What did you want to ask me?”

Isellta’s wings settled down.Β “Well, now that you’re here alone, it seems like a weird question to ask.”

“Try me.”

“Okay! You have a significant other. Umm. Do you love her?”

The guard tilted his head. “That is a weird question. Of course, I love her. She’s my babe.”



What does…Not now. I’ll decipher that one later. “What does that mean? Love. What…What is it?”

The guard chuckled behind his mask. “That is a loaded question, fey.” He pulled his phone out of his robe’s pocket. “Fortunately, I have a song on here.” He removed one of his black gloves and rolled his finger from bottom of the phone screen to the top over and over.

“Ah. Here it is. This song will answer your question.” The guard handed the phone to him. “Hold on one second.” He pulled a set of earplugs out of his other pocket and stuffed them inside the fey’s ears.


“You’ll see.” He attached the earplugs to the phone and pressed the green arrow on the screen.

John Denver’s “Perhaps Love” sang inside the fey’s ears.

Isellta exhaled a soft “Ohh.”

The music, the lyrics, and all of the spaces in between the notes spoke to him in a way that plain speech failed to do.

It made sense to him.

He understood.

I want this.

I want someone to sing this to me and feel this way for me.

I want.


I want you to feel this way for me. Can that even happen? Is it even possible when you’re so full of anger and rage?

Can you feel anything else?

The song ended.

Isellta removed the earplugs. He returned it and the phone to the guard.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“Umm. I do, but I’m just feeling very messed up right now. Could you come back later?”

“Sure.” He paused. “And I’ll bring one of my spare masks.”

Isellta’s wings flapped.


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