Conduct the Day

by ~Phifty

Conduct the Day


The fires in the nearby ammo stores provided the percussion. A loud, quick, rat-a-tat-tat to call out the sun. Bislane climbed to the top of the half-mangled truck that was providing her and her sister with shelter and looked out across the valley, surveying her awaiting Orchestra, insuring that they were ready. She stretched out her short arms, tapping the tarnished exhaust pipe beside her. The fires on the edge of the horizon that stretched out before her came to a crescendo that made them burn as bright as the coming dawn.

She brought up her hands with the sound and then let stubby fingers lead her arm down, stopping the echoing thunder. The girl twirled her finger and her winds section, the high pitched reedy sounds of far away tracers flying through the air, began to play. Then came the brass, the low deep wind reverberating through the metallic husks around her. Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun heard her music welcoming it, and the light began to rise. Then she threw out her arms and welcomed the deep thumping bass section of Artillery.

Bislane’s hands waved purposefully up and down, weaving all the elements of her Orchestra together to form the song that would welcome a new day. The brass and winds rose and quickened in tune with the thumping bass. She began to conduct wildly, her arms weaving back and forth, her hands and small body both, moving with, and pushing forward the music into increasing complexity. Each section of the Orchestra grew louder and more nuanced with furious sound and beautiful melody. The sound grew so much and so fast that for a moment she feared that she would lose control and she threw her hands out to prevent cacophony, fingers catching and weaving the sound.

Then, an explosion from her percussion, so loud and so near that even the conductor was deafened by it. She lowered her hands and all was silent, even the mournful brass.

The sun waited on the horizon for her to continue. The girl, lit only by the low glow of the coming dawn, the reflected sun creeping into her eyes, wiped a curl of hair from in front of her eyes before raising her hands to begin again. She threw them down, violently, and twin blasts from her percussion pushed the brass, with a load oomph of energy, into a low fury. The flutes, the staccato of human yells, led the winds in a fast sharp melody that countered the brass.

Bislane conducted with the energy of a fury, the music was inside her, moving the girl as she moved it. There was no stopping it now. Yes the music, everywhere now, bouncing and flying its way towards an Ultimate Crescendo. Everything felt it, even the Sun. Yes! She could see the golden globe, it’s waist rising out of the horizon.

The conductor gave it everything she had now, throwing herself into the piece. As the music rose around her, she didn’t hear the almost silent pattering of feet climbing up behind her, or the ragged breaths of the climber. She knew nothing but the music, until hands clasped around her and threw her to the floor.

“What are you doing little sister,” Ilona yelled.

Bislane didn’t answer, she looked at the rising sun and heard her music. She could only hope that her Orchestra knew the song well enough to finish it without her.

“This is a warzone, not a playground, you could have gotten shot.” The conductor’s sister clasped her hand and dragged her away. “We have to keep moving!”

“But look,” Bislane cried as she was dragged away. She pointed, her Orchestra, they had done it.

The sun had risen.