(( Listen to this while you read: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jce3Frxot9s ))
A low-lying mist swirled about my legs as I trudged along the dusty road. Considering how crispy the desert could get during the day, it was surprisingly cool right now. I jammed my hands in my pockets and peered at the road ahead.
In the distance, I could just barely make out a dark shack-shaped shadow in the distance. It’s likely that noone would be awake at this time of night, but it would provide something other than a cactus to rest against.
Yeah… I won’t make THAT mistake again.
As I drew nearer to the shack, I could hear the gentle strumming of a guitar. It didn’t seem to have any sort of cohesive melody, just someone freestyling with a sort of mariachi flair. Strangely enough, I couldn’t see who was playing the music. Noone seated out front… No lights inside… Just the gentle strains of a forgotten ballad.
I took the brief respite I had promised myself, oddly calmed by the haunting strings. After a time I rose to my feet, took one last fruitless look inside, then continued on my way.
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My ears tracked the lonely music as long as I could. It was a welcome reprieve from the ever-present music of desert fauna that one would normally expect in the wastes of Mexico. The moon hovered in the sky, pleasantly full and illuminating the land quite well… save the ground which remained hidden beneath a blanket of fog.
Not long after the last strains of mariachi had faded behind me, I stopped. I listened cautiously, not even wishing to disturb the air with a breath.
That same forlorn strumming was now coming from ahead of me.
I tentatively picked up the pace. The shack rose from the mist as it had before, with the hidden mariachi continuing his art. A sign on the wall I hadn’t noticed before said simply ‘Da Capo’. Kneeling beside the outer wall, I waved away fog to see the small crushed plants and disturbed sand indicating my previous resting place.
Panic gave my weary frame a burst of energy, and I ran… The music faded, then strengthened once again… I was trapped.
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The ground’s mist mirrored my mind’s panic as I ran. I lost track of whether I had passed that damned shack… 4, maybe 5 times?
The music which had calmed me only a short time ago now grated itself across my ears like a cat’s tongue. I tried running perpendicular to the road, risking the chance of getting lost in the desert, but I only returned to the same spot.
I glanced upwards and found that moon hadn’t shifted in the sky one iota. Spent, I plunked down on the ground to try to collect myself. It wasn’t a simple task, with the constant invasion of the strumming from that old guitar.
‘Da Capo’… I looked at the sign curiously. That wasn’t spanish… The phrase wandered around in my head and finally connected with my old high-school band lessons. ‘Da Capo’… Repeat from beginning.
With a giggle of desperation, I grabbed a nearby piece of white rock. Beneath the existing phrase I scratched the words ‘al coda’ and set off toward my destination, the music fading one last time.
