Broken Melody

Pay the price for greatness

It sounded like a screech, I could hear it over and over again, day after day, mornings and evenings. If it is not a screech then it's a croon.
Sometimes high pitch, sometimes low pitch and at times pitch less. Sometimes strings of notes will be let out with coordination, sometimes with no coordination at all, descending, ascending, jumbling the notes.
Most times it was just a frustrated scream, long and sad. Proper melody was rarely heard, it times it was just broken melody.
Minister Clarion Udoh, slim, elegant and tall, with a face as exquisite as a fine looking glass was one of the greatest orchestral singer in our locality.
She lived just a block away from us and years past, I used to wake up to her slick and sweet voice as she trained every morning. But this past year has been different, it wasn't slick and sweet anymore but frustrated screams, croons and screeches.
She had made it big in our locality but could not go beyond that because she could not attain the pitch she needed to fly, to soar higher, to make it to the international clique.
The last time I saw her, she looked gaunt and skinny, rumour had it that she had herself on a strict diet hoping to do all what it takes to achieve the voice tone.
She brought in trainers and kept changing them without a whim when it seems they could do nothing to help her.
Apart from her domestic staff and her manager/personal assistant, she lived in solitude.
One week turned to two weeks to one month then to three months, nothing was heard from her apartment, the place was desolate, nobody going in or out. Word had it that she had relocated, some said maybe she had gone crazy and is recovering in an asylum and some even said she might be dead.
Then, one bright morning, six months later, the doors of her house was flung open, activities everywhere, cleaning, washing, airing. The gardeners were at work, the kitchen staff were hurling in groceries etc.
We all watched quietly, wondering if a new owner was taking over.
I could hear it, a faint echo, I actually thought I was dreaming but coming fully awake, I could hear it, the soft, slick, beautiful voice like a nightingale drifted across the neighbourhood.
Everyone stirred, windows cracked open, lights came on, everyone listened.
Yes, indeed! She was back, Minister Clarion, declaring the clarion call.
Wherever she went to, who knows? Maybe she reconnected with her creator or got in touch with nature or maybe she died and rose again. Whatever she did, wherever she went to, it worked, yes, it worked.
Broken melody restored. Truly difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations.


Line count: 17
Word count: 461