Enjoy the Show!

Aurora Library at Night

Street lamps cast glowing pools of light on the cobblestones at the edge of the city square. The day's street vendors already packed up their booths and wares, and now a crowd gathers, various people jockeying for better positions. Many families sit on spread blankets, bright colors still managing to draw your eye in the dim light.

Beyond the square, the resplendent library casts colored light through its stained glass; you barely notice the flicker from its source. You can't see it, but you remember the enormous dome at the library's center, fashioned from plated lenses to project the flames' light through the whole of the library. Bewilderment furrows your brow for a moment at the realization they must have to clean the dome every day after building a fire inside. A moment later, a horn sounds.
A hush falls over the crowd after a two-note horn call, and expectant faces turn to the battlements of the library's roof. You spy small silhouettes lining up between its stone teeth. Those must be the lightsmiths. The middle silhouette raises a hand above its head, and a single, clear note rings from the horn, which must be coming from the library steps, as you don't see its bearer atop the battlements.

The library's light seems to suddenly dim, and a tendril of green light wisps its way from the skylight into the air, reaching toward the stars. Hints of blue and yellow seem to dance at its edges as another tendril joins it. A second horn calls out a note of harmony with the second tendril's entrance. The second blossoms a deep purple with indigo and pink hues at its edges.
The two interwine, never quite blending, but dancing around each other, and the two horn notes pulse in a slow vibrato. Now a third tendril - orange with flushes of red and yellow - joins the dance with a harmony, and the strands begin to braid themselves around each other. They break from one another with a sudden, cut-off rise in pitch kept in harmony, and all tendrils disappear.

After a pause, the first rises again, but this time more like a ribbon, leaving a wide swath as it wends its way into the air. The horn seems to weave with it, falling somewhat flat and then sharp in time with its turns. The purple and orange strands join in on either side this time, but they all bend the same direction at the same time, their harmonized notes mimicking the movement. It has a strange, haunting feel to it.

Their wavering harmonic tones steady, and the ribbons stop weaving for a moment, though they seem to ripple. Two more ribbons and notes suddenly join the show in a spray of five blurred ribbons of color, arraying the full spectrum of colors and intoning a pentatonic scale. 


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© 2019 Jenari Skye