Note from the editor: One of the main reasons I chose this story was because of the originality of the concept. While many of the short stories submitted delved into similar ideas, this one was a total bolt out of the blue. The plot is unique, the story original.
Under London Clouds
The competitor's job was to write a story based off of this song; the music and the cover image.
Just outside of ancient London, 181 A.D.
Marcus Benedictus scrambled for the top of a stone-littered hill. He reached the crest of the rise and clambered to the top of a rock—just in time to catch sight of the sunset that he’d been so eager to see.
The sky was dyed fiery red and dotted with flaming orange bits of cloud. The sun cast pinkish-golden beams of light over the hills and on the roofs of the houses inside the walled city of Londinium, the capital of Roman Britain. Outside of the walls, sheep and large gray stones spotted the green, rolling hills. The River Thames, glittering in the golden evening light, cut through the swaths of thick grass and came up to the city. The sound of sheep bleating filled the air, and the wind whistled in his ears, cooling the sweat that had gathered during his swift climb.
The young Roman smoothed his tunic and sat down on the rock, reaching into his side bag to get his flute. It was the sight of the sun that filled him with a burning desire to contribute to the beauty. All the splendor of the sky built in him so that he felt that he’d burst if he didn’t play a song. If his music was but a leaf in the forest, all the better. When he slipped his hand into his leather sack in search of his instrument, his fingers closed around a slim, cold metal trinket.
He withdrew a small pocket watch on a silver chain, something he'd never seen before—much less put in the bag. It produced a clear, clean ticking noise that he at first associated with a click beetle. Holding the object at arm’s length until convinced it wasn’t alive, he took it into his palm. Three small shafts of metal spun around from a fixed point in the center of the glass.
He turned it over in his hand. Latin words were written on the back.
This and eternal life are yours until you want true love.
Marcus didn't know what it was or where this thing had come from, but he had no intentions of losing this strange new treasure. If the words about eternal life were true then this was something he would want to keep forever.
…
London, September 2024.
Cassie Warner-Reuben looked out of Abbey Road Studios into the dismal sheets of rain. It was umbrella weather again.
"Hey," Mr. Danials stuffed their sheet music into his guitar case before snapping it shut and slinging it over his shoulder. "Need a ride home?"
“No thanks, Mr. Danials. I was going to head for Starbucks—you know, just down the street. I’ll pick up a cab from there.”
“Not working on anything, though, right? You’re putting in a lot of hours already.”
“I just wish we could get the 3rd and 8th tracks down. But I’m good. I’ll take a break.”
“We’ll get them eventually,” Mr. Danials promised. “Sure you don’t need a ride there?”
“I’m good.” Cassie tugged her designer jacket closer around her shoulders and put her head down. She opened the door and stepped out into the cool rain, shielding herself with her umbrella.
A couple of minutes later, she stepped into the Starbucks. The warm air hit her with the scent of scones and muffins.
She shook the rain from her umbrella and stepped up to order a coffee. After the barista handed over a piping-hot cup of brown deliciousness, Cassie found a table in the corner. She put down her coffee and started to scroll through Instagram. Her immersive distraction was broken by a rich voice brushed with an English accent. “Mind if I sit ‘ere?”
She looked up to see a young man with a fledgling beard. His blackish-brown hair was curly, a little loose, and sprinkled with rainwater. He wore a pair of slacks and a well-fitted navy button-up. He had earrings—small earrings that matched the modest silver chain around his neck and two metal bracelets on his right hand. He looked to be around twenty-four, but his sparkling blue eyes hid a sort of ageless magic.
“Nope. Have a seat.” Cassie clicked her phone off and put it in her lap.
“Thanks,” He said in his crisp English accent. While he was sitting, Cassie stole a glance around the restaurant—there were plenty of free tables. “My name’s Marcus.” He said.
“I’m Cassie.”
“Nice to meet you. What do you do?” He took a sip from his cup.
“I’m a musician.”
“Oh, really?” His brown eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I’m a musician too. I play anything I can get my hands on. What about you?”
“Just a vocalist—but we are recording for the first time.”
"Abbey Road Studios is really close to here. You checked them out?"
"That's where we're at, actually," Cassie said.
“Not a dodgy start.”
“Well, no. But we’ve only got a couple of days reserved and we’re knackered. My professor put in the money to get us in, but it’s not going so well.” Cassie looked down, embarrassed because she was opening up to a stranger, but it had all been building up for a long time, and it felt good to talk about it with someone besides Mr. Danials, especially after all the extra hours she'd been forcing herself to put in. The music just wasn't working right. Marcus seemed to notice her frown, because he asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“Our incidentals are rubbish.”
Marcus grinned. “Incidentals aren't too bad.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Do you need some help?” He asked. “I’m free tomorrow.”
Cassie felt herself growing warm. As much as she hated their being stalled and running out of money, introducing a random stranger to Mr. Danials with the hope that he could help them seemed worse.
Marcus just raised his eyebrows, waiting.
“How good are you?”
“I’ve been practicing for ages. It’s my cup of tea.” He said. “Come on, I know a piano shop just down the street. I'll show you.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve got nothing to lose but the triumph of finishing a recording at the Abbey.”
Cassie finally let herself be convinced to endure a short display of Marcus’ talents at the nearby piano shop and, a couple of minutes later, they stepped into a dimly-lit brick building, filled with pianos and air that smelled of mahogany.
There was no owner in sight, so Marcus sat down at a Yamaha of red-stained maple. He took a breath and pressed one of the nicotine-stained keys. He tested a couple and then frowned at her.
“C-minor is out of tune.”
Cassie raised her hands to testify to her innocence.
Marcus laid his fingers back on the keys and pressed a single ivory key to begin a song. A rich note flowed from the body of the tired piano. He pressed another key. Then another note followed, sweeter than the last. He set about a song, his fingers slow-dancing across the keys. His hands gracefully wound up toward the far end of the keys as a concerto came to life and all the world faded away.
When the last notes of the song were gone, Cassie opened her eyes and wiped away tears.
“That was beautiful. Can you meet me at the studio tomorrow at nine?”
“I’ll be there.” Marcus smiled.
…
The rain held out through the night and into the next morning, but Cassie arrived at Abbey Road Studios in high spirits. She was waiting for Marcus when he stepped into the lobby.
“All right?”
“I’m good.” She said.
Marcus was dressed in a light, clean white shirt, long-sleeved, with two buttons at the collar and trousers. He wore polished leather shoes, and his hair was combed back, damp with the drizzle.
“We’re just down here," Cassie said. She opened the door to a small room, padded with foam. A flat and wide mixing board and a monitor were on the desk. In the center of the room was a mic and a keyboard behind it. A blue couch was pushed up against the back and a cashmere rug was under everything.
An older looking man, half-bald and bespectacled, sat at the monitor playing an audio clip into headphones and clicking repetitively with the mouse. He pulled the headphones off and put them down. “Cheers.”
“Hello, Mr. Danials,” Cassie said, waving. “This is Marcus. I asked him over to see if he could offer a fresh perspective on the keys.”
If her music theory professor was suspicious or annoyed like Cassie feared he would be, Mr. Danials didn’t show it. He shook Marcus’ hand. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” Mr. Danials pointed to the keyboard. “We’re working with an EastWest Fantasy Legato here. Just hold back until you hear the vocals a couple of times. I’ll feed our 3rd song to the keys’ headphones.”
Marcus sat down and slipped on the headphones. He picked out the beat with a finger on his knee before switching to the keys and mock-playing something. Before the song was halfway through, he asked if they could drop the background they already had. “Just the beat and the voice—and maybe you can restart it?”
“Sure.” Mr. Danials clicked a couple of things on the screen.
“Oh—and maybe we could record this?” Marcus asked. “We can use it later if something else doesn’t work out.”
Cassie and her professor both looked over at him with surprise. Mr. Danials shrugged. “You got it.”
The song began and Marcus danced his fingers across the keys. Violin music filled the air from the synth keyboard.
Cassie followed along, listening to the new incidental. She slowly nodded. It was good. Probably better than anything they had yet.
Marcus stopped playing. “Sorry, sorry. Let’s restart. That was rubbish.”
"That was great. Why did you stop?"
"I was just mucking around. I've got real ideas."
It wasn't long before Mr. Danials was satisfied with the final product. It took Marcus fifty minutes to remaster the track they’d spent the last four days writing.
“All that’s left for that one is mixing and mastering.” Mr. Danials said, shaking his head. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
“Practice." Marcus laughed.
They took a break and went back for the next song.
“Can we rerecord the lead on this one?” Cassie asked.
Mr. Danials was in a better mood than he’d been in for several days. He'd been beginning to think that the album was a catastrophic failure, but it was suddenly polishing up into a masterpiece. “Sure. Step up to the mic.”
Cassie lowered the suspended microphone to her height and tugged a set of headphones over her ears, brushing a lock of her brown hair back away from her eyes. Mr. Danials set a metronome flowing through her feed and she shuffled the papers around on the lectern. Marcus watched her brown eyes focus on what was on the paper. She glanced up at him. He gave an encouraging nod. She stood there a second, looking at the man who’d come to her rescue. If Mr. Danials was relieved that his monetary investment was paying off, how much more was she relieved that her lifework of singing practice was paying off?
She sensed the song beginning and took a deep breath. The beat rolled back around, and she started her piece.
...
They worked for another two days, recreating and mastering all sixteen tracks on Cassie Warner-Reuben’s first album. Marcus led the reconstruction with his incredible skills and labyrinthian storehouse of melodies.
Professor Danials was in a frenzy. He loved every part of the album, from Cassie’s angelic vocals to Marcus’ full orchestra accompaniment. The professor claimed he’d made the best decision of his life—even though Cassie cautioned him against getting his hopes up for the actual sale of the album. He held up a Starbucks napkin full of marketing ideas and names to send the album to and didn’t listen.
The night after the night they finished recording, they all went out to a restaurant in London. The professor set to work on finding a record label. Cassie and Marcus met for coffee or a meal a couple of times during the next few weeks. Finally, Mr. Danials texted them both to announce that he had good news—and wanted to meet them outside of London near the coast.
Cassie was ecstatic, but Marcus seemed off and only offered a vapid response. It was beginning to become the new normal for him to let lengthy delays grow between text messages. When they spoke in person, he seemed burdened by something, possessed by a faraway look in his eyes. And he certainly seemed distant now, distant and broken. But still, she grew fond of him. And he had to feel the same way about her—at least if the messages his eyes sent could be trusted.
…
Marcus arrived at the Basilica, their selected restaurant, right on time. He stepped out of a cab in a three-piece suit of dark navy. His eyes were as large and as blue as ever, flashing with his wide smile and his stud earrings. Cassie was waiting for him by the door.
“Hey.”
“Cheers.” He said, nodding with a grin.
They stepped into the restaurant together. The air was filled with conversations, the clinking of silverware, and the smells of fine wine and fresh garlic rolls. People dined in high-back, heavy wooden chairs at tables. The two wound their way through the tables until they reached Mr. Danials and his wife, sitting across from two empty seats.
After perusing the menus and ordering, they started on bread.
“I’m very glad that this has all worked out so nicely.” Marcus said, obviously trying to bait Mr. Danials into telling them what they were there for.
"As am I… and, as I'm sure you're both guessing," Mr. Danials said, putting down his glass and folding his hands, looking very serious yet like he was hiding a smile. "We…. have been signed." The smile broke loose.
Cassie clapped and Marcus grinned. He shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Danials, then leaned over to hug Cassie. They talked over how much they were signed on for and all the details. Mr. Danials once again insisted that they pay Marcus for his work, but he denied the offer for a fifth time. The waiter reappeared with their food, temporarily ending the discussion.
“Signed or not,” Marcus said, digging into his spaghetti, “It’s very nice to see you all one more time.”
Though his words were innocent enough, there was a hint of finality in the tone—as if they were having a departing meal. Cassie quickly looked his way, but he didn’t return her glance. “Mm…. This is delicious.” He said, poking at his pasta.
Cassie turned back to her Branzino Cardinale, which had suddenly lost all of its appeal. Her stomach twisted.
Marcus barely said anything for the rest of the meal, and their conversation revolved around the food and the process of writing the album.
When the Danials ordered dessert, Cassie—terrified that, after refusing a slice of cake, Marcus would beg to be excused—asked if he would like to take a walk.
After a hesitation, Marcus agreed.
They stepped out into the fresh sea air and walked in silence down the brick sidewalk, tacitly agreeing to head for the oceanfront.
Cassie searched for the right words to say in that moment, but none came. Marcus seemed content just to look ahead.
It was dark down on the water and no one was out. A thin layer of clouds was backlit by a full moon. Below the walkway, damp with drizzle from where the rain had fallen earlier, the seaside was crowded with large, rounded rocks. Even the ocean seemed silent, lapping gently against the large boulders.
“Is there something wrong, Marcus?”
"That sea bass was a bit dodgy, but I’m good if that's what you mean.”
“You just... don’t seem like yourself.”
Marcus didn’t say anything. He just kept his gaze on the ground. One of Cassie’s songs was stuck in his head—as was the sound of a ticking pocket watch, which was like an ever-present torture. “I’m just sad we’re saying goodbye.”
“Marcus—we’re not.”
“We have to.”
“Why?”
Marcus winced and dug at the ground with the toe of his shoe. When he spoke, his words were slow and rueful. “I shouldn’t have helped you if you have to be friends with me.”
Cassie didn’t try to hide her surprise. “What do you mean? You said you’re not married or engaged or even friends with… anyone else.”
“I’m not—and that’s just it.”
“That’s just what?”
“If we’re supposed to be for forever, I have to die.”
“Why would you have to die—what do you mean?”
Marcus sighed. “I’ve been looking for someone like you my entire life. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met… but I don’t know if I can throw the rest of eternity away. I’ve been listening for a voice like yours for longer than you can imagine, but I just don’t know if I can do it.” Before she could ask what he was talking about, he slipped a little watch out of his pocket and held it up. “Look.”
She hesitantly took it from him and looked it over.
He pulled out his phone and clicked on the light, pointing to the glass. On the clock face, a timer was slowly rolling around, along with a series of rollers slowly turning. “I found this 1843 years ago. I’ve not aged a day since.”
She pushed it back into his hand. “What are you talking about? Look, Marcus, I don’t know what you’re saying—are you okay?”
“I’m fine—but—I can’t explain it.”
"Look, Marcus, if you don't love me, just say so… don't play around. Are you saying goodbye?"
"No, no. I'm trying to explain. The back of this watch says that if I want to find true love, I have to throw it away—but then I won't live forever anymore."
Cassie looked at him as if he were mad.
"Every time I try to love someone, a couple weeks or months into the friendship something dramatic always happens to separate us. I've tried every way to get around it—it's not possible. I waited 1800 years to find someone I could really do it for—really just throw everything away, throw forever away for her."
"Are you okay, Marcus?"
“Look, can you make it back to the Basilica? I’ll be there in a couple minutes… I just have to think this over.”
Concern was written across Cassie’s brown eyes—along with, worse, a look of fear. She turned and strode off, her dress swishing across the ground.
Marcus turned to the ocean and held the pocket watch up.
1843 years, 85 days, 4 hours, 49 minutes, and 7 seconds had passed since he’d been eligible for true love. 1843 years, 85 days, 4 hours, 49 minutes, and 7 seconds of life without the hope of true love, the hope of growing old beside someone, the hope of dying beside that person.
He looked at the small device he’d come to loath. He took a deep, long breath. Was this it?
Could he really do it? Could he pitch the one thing he’d held onto for nearly two thousand years? The one thing that had kept him alive?
He looked at the small watch and he thought hard. Was this part of his life coming to a close? He’d waded and waited through centuries for an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.
But was this it?
Why should he live forever and never find love? Life was made to be lived—not abused. Life was made to be savored and tasted, not stuffed down the throat.
The very fact that he considered Cassie and was willing to give up his eternity showed just how valuable this chance was. She would be his forever girl—if he could give up forever so that she could be his girl.
The ticking, the same ticking tone of his never-ending life going on, was beginning to feel as if it would kill him. He couldn’t escape the sound. It had haunted him for ages. It had been everything to him when he had only lived a hundred years, but now that he’d been alive for eighteen hundred, he’d grown to hate it. Hate it so bad.
He wanted true love. He wanted to hear the sound of wedding bells. He wanted to hear his child’s first cry. He wanted to hear the sound of his pill bottles opening as he aged and went on medication. He wanted to hear the sound of his cane tapping the ground. He wanted to listen to the birds for the last time and know that his time had come. He wanted to hear the sound of his heartbeat on the machine at the hospital and count each one with gratitude, knowing that his life was finally hastening to an end. He wanted to look up into Cassie’s eyes, her same eyes, but years and years older, and tell her it would be okay. He wanted to know that he only had a matter of time until his death. He wanted to be a melody that would die.
Before he could think another second, Marcus did it. He pitched the pocket watch. The piece of metal—the horrible curse, the chain that bound him to life, flew in a slow arch until it hit the dark ocean with a splash.
The ticking was gone.
His forever was gone.
Marcus Benedictus was gone.
He was someone with a life—and only one life now. What a splendid thing.
Marcus turned around and raced back up the moonlit street until he saw the slender form of his favorite person hurrying back up the hill with her arms crossed.
“Cassie!” He cried.
She spoke over her shoulder, not yet turning around. “Look, Marcus, if you don’t like me then—”
“No, Cassie.” Marcus said, coming up beside her. “I love you.”
Her last look of skepticism drained away when Marcus offered his hand. She took it and hugged him tightly.
He let her go and dropped to one knee. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Cassie said, starting to feel tears roll down her cheeks. She hugged him again.
Hand in hand, they walked up the street and Marcus tried to explain, to find words to capture what had just happened—as if he’d been dreaming for centuries and had woken up all in a second. He attempted to tell it short but there was no way to. Cassie just listened and nodded. "You're going to have to explain the whole thing in more detail." She said, "Because this sounds like you're barking mad—but I believe you, Marcus."
“In that moment when I threw the thing away, I could hear your voice, ringing in my head, and I could hear the thing ticking, and I knew I had to choose between it or you. A battle of sounds—I can hear the melody in my head, like a song."
Cassie didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.
"You can sing, and I’ll write music for you—we have everything we need for a life—a life where we can grow up and get old together.”
She nodded.
“But I need a name,” Marcus said, looking down into her soulful brown eyes with real seriousness. “I’m not Marcus Benedictus anymore. Benedictus died by the ocean.”
“Take one of my names if you want to.” Cassie said.
“Marcus Reuben?”
“No. That doesn’t sound quite right.” She laughed. “How about Marcus Warner?”
The young man nodded, thinking how well it fit him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders again and swore to her how precious she was to him.
She smiled and whispered back. “It was just a matter of time until you found the right person, Marcus Warner. Just a matter of time.”
Wow! This was really good, amazing job, love the writing style and the awesome take on the prompt! Can't wait to read the others!
No offense to the others, but this was my favorite story...well done, Indy! It's so creative and such a intriguing plotline. Love the sweet ending! Congratulations on getting 3rd place!