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Writer's pictureJamaica Elcano

LITERARY | The Voice Within

The melody of the rectangular-shaped material in front of her vividly entered her mind. Two years had passed since she last heard its comforting tune, a tune she could listen to until her vision gets hazy, driving her into the realm of her escape—her dreams. Since then, she has wondered, will she ever get to listen to such a tune once again?



She had no idea what was wrong with the music box. She once took it somewhere to be fixed, but they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her magical music box, so she just let it sit on her bedside table until it came to this day, when she will finally return to where she belongs.


She remembered how she got a hold of her music box and was overcome with nostalgia. It was the last gift she received from her grandmother before she permanently bade her farewell. At least for her, the music box is magical because of the way the lady spun gracefully to upbeat music when she was joyful, the way it played soothing lullabies whenever she cried before going to sleep, and the way it helped her feel calm after being upset for hours. For this reason, when the music box stopped working, she felt like her entire world had stopped, but time continued to pass, shocking her with the reality that not everything is as it seems.


After sealing the boxes of things she used to display and use in that room, she held the music box tightly, contemplating whether she should bring it to her home in Manila. She started rotating the metal pin on the side, hoping for at least a note to elope in the music box. After countless tries, she saw how it turned into a gold music box, its light almost blinding her. She then figured it out—it was her warm hands that kept the music box rolling.


“Come to think of it, when I was a child, I was stubborn enough to keep everything going even if it meant shamelessly trying, and maybe that was why this thing grew on me.” She mumbled.


After two years, she finally understood what the empty melody of the broken music box meant; however, she still would not want everything to remain that way. During those years, she found her soul, the core of her existence, which is a part of what happened in the last two years that she will never regret. The music box resembled the voice within her.


Now, as her feet moved away from the house that she treated as her second home, she felt free—as if the notes were played exactly as she had hoped they would be back then. The corners of her lips curled up. She will surely remember the morals of the tune on the box told to her and, at the same time, use them to face the reality she is now facing.


Miraculously, the lady gracefully spun around, radiant and energized. The melody harmonized with the owner for the last time, before it was left where it was—a beat of calm mixed with the gleam of joy.


Graphics: Randzmar Longcop

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