It’s that confusing time when winter and spring struggle for dominance: warm enough to venture out on foot, but blustery reminders suggest the lingering presence of Jack Frost’s icy touch. Best to take advantage of the weather while it lasts. It’s been weeks since you’ve been able to enjoy the solitude of your favorite urban hike: a paved path over a long defunct railroad line that once ran through your little town. You pass the old buildings it used to service. The trail then skirts around the edge of a cornfield and into an area of marshy forest. The trees on either side provide relief from the chilly breeze, sighing with the effort. The air is filled with birdsong. You relish the peacefulness as you stride happily along. Sunlight begins to filter through the gray. The rising temperature teases fog out of the remaining snow, creating an almost mystical feel. You warm up enough to shed a layer. As you pause to remove the hoodie under your jacket, you think you hear whimsical notes of music carried on the wind somewhere in the distance. It sounds like a flute, but sometimes bowed strings. Maybe both. You can’t quite tell. Curious, you continue forward, straining to make out a melody, but a defined pattern is elusive. You walk deeper into the woods for a while when suddenly the music seems to come from everywhere at once, echoing through the trees. It dawns on you that the birds have stopped singing. You decide it’s time to head back, but as you turn to go a figure emerges from the mists. As it gets closer its crooning becomes intensely loud, turning into a melodic, pulsating rhythm that shrieks in your ears and throbs deep in your skull. Your feet get moving, but instead of returning you home they begin to complement the tempo as your body starts to sway with the music. You try to stop dancing. You can’t.

     

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