Music Talent
{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: Johnothano | |
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Author: [[User:|]]
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{{#ifeq: | |
Author: Johnothano |
Author: [[User:|Johnothano]]
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{{#ifeq: Johnothano | |
{{#ifeq: | | Authors: ' |
Authors: [[User:|]]
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{{#ifeq: | |
Authors: Johnothano |
Author: [[User:|Johnothano]]
}}
}}
}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
My first story, so if its god awful I got an excuse. However, constructive criticism is appreciated and wanted.
I looked at my flute tutor, waiting her to point out a million mistakes I had made with my audition piece. “John, that was great. Real great,” she said. I was amazed.
She smiled at my shock. Lyn was actually completing my playing. I shook my head and smiled. “Wow…. Thanks.” She replied, “I need to fill you in on some of the changes to the audition this year”. I snapped back into reality. “What changes?” I was nervous. The audition had been the same every year since I first started playing the flute. Why change it now?
“Instead of three selected pieces to audition with, you now only need to play one selected piece and you get to pick another piece to go with it,” Lyn said as she pulled a piece of music out of an ancient-looking book. The music was yellow with age and slightly faded. There was a slight tear at one corner, but other than that, it was in very good condition for its apparent age. I read the title. My eyebrows rose up, questioning, “Canticle of Change? I have never heard of that piece”.
That was not very surprising. I got into flute after hearing Jethro Tull’s Bouree. I was always more of a rocker than a classical musician. Lyn smiled again, “Its three pages of long, technically challenging, difficult to interpret music. However, we still have three weeks to the audition and I think you are up to the challenge”. I glanced at the piece. O my God, it looked hard. It looked like my first audition piece at light speed on crack. Then the next page was totally different. It became melodic, and slower than a snail. I thought I had actually flipped to a different piece. “Wha… that’s crazy. Impossible,” I protested. “There is no way anyone can change styles so fast. There is not even the slightest pause-” Lyn cut me off. “Look at the third page”.
I did. I then decided this piece was from music hell.
It was another new style. Where the first had been fast, it was a dark fast, an Ian Anderson fast, the kind of fast I liked. The next section had been slow, but with major notes. Nothing that would pop out of tune like a C# or E. The third page was fast, but it was lighter. A lot of short notes all over the place. Any note I had to hold out for more than a beat was a note I dreaded. C#, E, notes above middle B. Not easy or fun at all. I could hand this piece to a DragonForce guitarist and he’d cry. “Lyn, do you really think I can do this?” I was hoping this was some kind of stupid music joke. “Yep,” she said cheerfully. Not the answer I wanted. Not at all. I looked around for a pencil. Might as well start trying to make sense of this abomination. I saw the clock out of the corner of my eye. Wow, 6 o’clock already? “Lyn, I gotta go,” I said handing her a check. She replied, “OK, I expect you to have the first part figured out when we see each other next week. Just bring the music, I don’t think you’ll need your flute.” Awesome. There was no mistake about it then, she did expect me to play this… I didn’t know what to call it because music was not that insane.
I drove home thinking about the music. (I know I said it wasn’t music, but it was written with notes so I guess I had to call it that) I realized I had no idea who wrote it. When I got to my house, I made myself something to eat (Mom, Dad, and my brother were out at a parent-teacher conference) and looked for the name of a composer. There was none. No name anywhere on the music at all. Perhaps it just rubbed off or something. I decided to see if I could find a sound clip of the song on the internet. It would give me a place to start from. iTunes was, as usual, no help and lime wire came up with no hits either. A quick Google search gave me no music, but an interesting article.
It was from some crazy transformation website. I had always, in my heart of hearts, wanted to join one of these websites and mailing lists, but never could bring myself to do so. I would be on the verge of joining up, but then think that if I did I would have totally lost it. After all, what was the point of wishing or writing about not being human? It was a fact, and an easy one. Can’t really debate the issue. Anyone who did clearly had lost it a bit. Yet, every time I opted out, a voice inside of my head would say, At least they have the balls to do something they wanted to do, even if it was a little weird. I did not feel like staring an internal debate with myself, so I just read the article.
Apparently, someone had done some research on the Canticle of Change. They had found part of it on the walls of some ancient temple. Underneath it, was pictures of people listening to something, and as they listened, changing into animals. Not completely animals. What was the term…. Furries. I checked the music on the picture with the music I had. It matched the last part of the third page, the hardest part. It was like two melodies fighting for control, and eventually blending in together. Weird. Like a human and animal morph…. What was I thinking? There was no way a piece of music could change people, no matter how difficult. Yet, sometimes when you play well, really well, you don’t feel quite so human, do you? No… I was not going to keep thinking that, I still had all my marbles. I shook my head to clear it. I grabbed the music, my flute and a pencil and got to work. This was just as hard as I thought it was. I had just finished marking up the first part on the first page when my eyelids started to droop. I put down the pencil. Just close my eyes for a second then I’ll get up and get in my bed…just a second…come on, I got to get to bed… screw it…
I wake up in a grassy field. I look around to get my bearings. There is one tree, a big live oak, in the middle of the field, and the field is surrounded by a forest. Some level of my mind knows that this is just a dream, but I don’t dream often and it feels so real. I realize that I’m seeing things from a bit higher up than I’m used to, almost as if I have grown a foot taller. I realize that I’m thirsty. I also realize that I know there is a pool of water just beyond the woods. I run over to the woods, and find out that I’m moving a lot faster than I should. I stop. Something inside me tells me that I should stop; if I go there I will not be the same. I’m tired of running away from my passions and desires. Besides, this is just a dream, right? It feels so real, though. I go through the woods. I’m moving with far more agility than I should be able to. I get to the pool quickly. When I look in, something is troubling the waters and I can’t see my reflection. I bend down to drink. I can’t reach the water. I try to kneel down, but for some reason my legs are not working. Then the water turns as smooth as glass. I can see my reflection clearly, as if I am looking in a mirror. I jump back with shock and fright. The reflection looking back at me was human from the waist up, but after that had the body of a deer. Kinda like the centaurs from Greek mythology, but with a deer body instead of a horse. As the dream fades I hear the canticle softly in my ear.
BAM! “oww…” I hit the back of my head on my chair. I quickly get up and scrawl out my dream in my dream journal. The journal is the remnant of a wish that I could actually remember what I dream at night. This time I remember it all very clearly. I realize what I had been dreaming about. I look down. Thank God, I only have two legs. A part of me, however, feels regret. I shake my head again. I like being human because it is what I am. ‘nuff said. I check a clock. 7:30 in the morning. Well, I was never good at going back to sleep, so I got up, stretched out (my neck hurt. Bad) and set a pot of water to boil for tea. As I wait for the water to boil, I think about the song. Could it have made me dream that? Was that even possible? I try to think of something else. Anything else. My mind keeps coming back to the dream and the song. Did Lyn know about this?
The teapot whistles as the water boils. I pour myself a mug and try to make up a logical explanation for all of this. I can’t find an explanation, so I decide on a course of action. I will keep working with the song, and when I see Lyn next week, I will tell her about this whole thing then. I finish off my mug of tea.
After talking a quick shower, I tried to get the song and dream out of my head. Eventually, I just gave up. I ran some more searches on the Canticle of Change. Nothing of any value except that article. I look for more about it on the website. Looks like I need to be a member to get full access to the site. And read the rest of the article. Well, life just boxed me in a corner. I am only doing this to get the full story on the canticle, I tell myself as I click the join up for free button. Yeah right, you know you’re here for more than that. Feel proud of yourself, you are finally being you.
Fine, whatever. But right now, I needed to read that entire article. I finish the sign up page and decide to make my screen name DeertaurFlautist. God, I’ve truly gone crazy now. Well, might as well read the rest of the article. I got about half way down and stop. “… it was also said that the player of the music would receive ‘magical visions’ of what he or (in rare cases) she would transform into…” I check to see if I have two legs again. Yep, still do. Good.
I decided not to wait a week to talk to Lyn, she was getting a call. Right now. I grabbed my cell phone and called her. No answer. Damn. Well, I’ve gone this far haven’t I? I grab the piece of music again and crank up Liquid Tension Experiment. It’s a crazy gift of mine, but I can work on a piece of music while listening to a totally different piece of music. After about an hour I put down the music. It really is crazy hard. I think about reading some stories on the website, but stop myself. I only signed up for that article, I tell myself sternly. I am still normal, not like those people… I wonder if I should tell my parents and little brother about all of this. Nah, no point in worrying them.
My phone rings, snapping my out of my thoughts. I fumble with the receiver and answer “Hello?” “This is Lyn, you called?” “Yeah, something has come up about the canticle… I don’t know if I want to play it for the audition.” “What is the problem?” She was concerned. I usually was too stubborn to change pieces. “I had a weird dream last night….” “Oh… come over to my house, I’ll explain it all then.” Wait, she knew? “I’m on my way.”
I hung up in disgust. She never told me about this part of the song…. If I had known about all of this I would have never decided to play it. I would have protested… Well, she was promising answers. I grabbed my wallet and keys.
“Please, sit down.” I nod my head in thanks and Lyn begins to explain it all to me. It takes about an hour for her to explain it all. When she is done, I decide to repeat the important bits back to make sure I got this story straight. “OK, you’re telling me that you have been passing this music down for generations, since ancient times, waiting for the right person to play it. This song was once played a lot, and that is where we get all the ancient myths from. They all really existed, and were just people transformed by this song. However, the song lost its potency from overuse. People began to abuse it. After a while, it stopped working. Then, people lost their faith in its abilities. But not everyone. There are still a few copies of this song left passed down by musicians to people who they believe can either protect the song, or play it again. When a person that can play the song right gets a copy, they figure it out at alarming speeds. You think that the song has been gathering power and now when it is finally played correctly, will transform not just the player and the immediate listeners, but the world.” She nods.
“And you think I can play it correctly.”
More nodding. “John, you are the best student I have ever tutored. You’re talented. You can do things on flute that I never thought possible. You learn fast. I think you are the one.” “I don’t.” “Why?” “I don’t want this… I don’t want to transform at all… I like being human, why would I want to be anything else?” “Just be open to the possibility… you never know. Also, don’t worry about the difficulty of the piece. Just go with it.”
I grunt. Whatever. I say goodbye. Throughout the drive home and the rest of the day I think about what Lyn said. I raged in an internal debate. Be open to the idea, that is all she is asking. No, I am still normal, still sane, I respond. Eventually that night, I decide to take a chance. Fine, I tell myself. I’ll go on the website and read some stories. I’ll be open to the outside chance that I might be the one to play this song right. I fall asleep surprisingly quickly.
I open my eyes the field again. I check my lower body, and I now look down and confirm that yes, I do have the lower body of a deer. As I lift my head up it feels heavier than normal. I reach up and touch a pair of antlers growing from my forehead. Did I have them before? I think back to my last dream. Yeah, I think I did. As I drop my hand my arm brushes against my ear. A deer ear. I feel my face and upper body. That is still human. I now begin to explore my new form. I walk (trot?) slowly around the field. I pick up speed, and eventually speed up to a full-fledged gallop. I feel amazing. This is euphoria. With a sudden burst of speed I leap over a dead log and into the woods. Reveling in my agility, I run from tree to tree. Never before have I felt so normal… so right. I get to the pool of water. Slowing down, I check the pool. The water is troubled. Again, I struggle to bend down to get a drink. A voice inside of me rages, “You cannot drink. If you do, everything you have worked for will be lost!” The pool again smoothes out. I look at my new form. But If I take a drink, I realize, I will be able to have this all the time…I hear the canticle louder than before. My dream fades out slowly.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
I slam my alarm clock into another dimension. Getting out of bed slowly, I realize that I have mass today. Duh, it’s Sunday, and I am in the choir. I mill over the new dream in the shower. I freeze suddenly. The Roman Catholic Church was started after the song supposedly stopped working and was hidden. Will I be excommunicated if I transform? I realize how much of my life will change if the song is all it’s cracked up to be. If Lyn is correct, than more people than you will transform, you know that. It is hard to say how many, really. Perhaps my life will not be totally messed up, or at least other people will be there with me…. I smile. I need to focus on the mass.
<about an hour later>
“That was great!”, Father exclaimed. “That has got to be some of the best playing I have ever heard”. I am totally dumbfounded. The pastor at my church is one for speed masses. He was never a supporter of music in the mass. Hearing a compliment from him was even better than hearing it from my tutor. I take a deep breath. I think I can play the canticle… and even worse I think I want to play it.
<two days later>
I looked at the music. How did I…? The music just fell into place. In only two days I have done what I thought was impossible. I just need to ‘touch up’ a bit on the music and then… well, I have no clue.
I take a break and start to read several of the stories on the website. They are good. I loose all track of time as I read about all sorts of morphs and wild transformations. With each story, I feel more comfortable about my own probable transformation. Perhaps I won’t be hated or feared by everyone after all. The front door opens. Mom is home. The rest of my day seems to pass in a blur as I wonder what I will dream about tonight.
I’m standing the field with the tree again. I now trot to the edge of the woods and walk through with out a passing thought. I come to the pool, which now is not troubled. Now working my deer legs and torso muscles together, I manage to bend down and get my lips to water. I take a long drink. I feel totally refreshed and at peace. I hear the canticle much louder now, and realize the reason I was able to work so fast on it is that I am hearing it in my dreams. As my vision fades to black, I see other morphs in the shadows of the trees. Play the song, hold nothing back they whisper. The sooner the better.
I wake up to the sunlight shining in my window. I feel totally refreshed, and a quick glance at my clock tells me its 9 am. I glance down at lower body. I still have two legs, but not for long. I guess I decided to accept my inner longings and dreams. The canticle does have the power to change, and it is a change I want. I take a quick shower and grab a pop-tart for breakfast. I eat as I read the message board on the transformation website. I post a message about the canticle, but I know today is the day. I know it in my heart of hearts. I make my last few marks on the piece and warm up. Hold nothing back they whispered in my dream. Can I do it? I realize this is my final chance to back down. This won’t just affect me, but everyone that wants to transform I think as I run trough the piece in my head. I had played it in parts before when I was working on it, but this will be the first time I play the whole thing. I cut the music off on my computer. Sunlight streaming through the window paints a prism on my shirt. I place my flute to my mouth.
I began to play. I am sure of that. My vision faded out and the canticle was only the faintest echo in my head. I hear bits and peaces of some of my favorite songs. My favorite parts to those songs. The piano of Bruce Springsteen in Thunder Road, Herman Lee’s Guitar Solo in DragonForces’ Through the Fire and Flames. Genesis’ drum beat in Jesus He Knows Me, the bass line in The Lemon Heads’ Miss Robinson just to name a few. They all come together in my head. It is one great symphony, and I now hear my flute above all of it. I am merging, blending human and animal together. The sound is now more like a needle and thread stitching together what was torn asunder. I hear the final protest from my old way of life, “No! You have no right to do this! You are far out of your league. Please come back to sanity…please.” The song responds for me, “I have never felt so sane or right in my life.” As I hold out the last note I realize that my vision hasn’t faded out, I just closed my eyes. I open them as my note fades away. I look down and then stamp my hoof in approval. I turn around and look out into the bright day at a rather astonished, but happy cat morph who was out jogging. She looks at me and I just shrug my shoulders. I realize I have no way to explain what just happened to my parents or my brother or my friends. I’ll figure out something.