The house is empty, a few creaks from the doors, but otherwise silence rules. Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears from an upstairs study, flies down the stairs, and dashes across the foyer. The flash from the lightning gives a glimpse on the shadow's face: one of a young man. The man disappears behind shelf. Closing the door behind him, he puts on his sound-canceling headphones. Let the experimentation begin! A lone smirk is seen on the young man's face.
As he stretches his arms and flexes his long fingers, he thinks on which instrument he shall work with. Looking around, he smiles at the large one, standing upright in the corner. Bigger is better, hmm? A marvelous machine of creation, black and white with gold imprints, the young man is happy with his choice. As the young man's fingers fly across its studded surface, the instrument responds quickly and pumps out waves of consciousness.
He is manufacturing mellow melodies, hinting at haunting harmonies, singing slick syncopations, and dancing with dangerous dissonance duos. They call him a madman, trying things that no one has tried before, mixing things that no one has dared mixed before. The young man pays them no heed; this is what he does best, what he loves: that is all that matters.
The trees outside are swinging back and forth, humming to a beat in the wind, jamming to the techno-esque lightning flashes; in the background, a soft bass-line of laughter is heard echoing.
1 comment:
frankeinstein much? :D haha i put on my noise canceling headphones to read this. dad is snoring super loudly behind me
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