Young Writers Society

Can you tell me if this is interesting or not? Also, tell me if I use too many musical terms that aren't understandable.

Music

Prologue

Everyone in the Jacobson family attributed the source of Alexis’s talent to her Uncle Adam. It was he who had danced her around the room as a baby, singing in his deep bass voice. It was him who had taken her on his lap and let her pudgy toddler fingers press the piano keys one by one. And when she was old enough to understand, he taught her about the structure of music, and how the dots on the paper and the black and white keys combined to make a beautiful sound.

By the time of her third birthday, she could play simple adaptions of popular songs. By the time she was five, she could play the original songs. And when she was seven, she could compose her own songs that were as good as any adult’s.

The family praised Alexis’s talent and bragged about her to everyone that they knew. Reporters were soon drawn in by the prospect of a child prodigy. Even more came when they learned that the child they were calling “the next Mozart” could not speak. The news spread quickly, and suddenly little Alexis was the talk of the nation.

Uncle Adam took none of the credit for her talent. “I just taught her the basics,” he said. “The rest is all her. Her music is her voice.”

“Not only was she an exceptionally quick learner, she also had the power to play her songs in such a way that could touch people’s hearts with a certain emotion. Her compositions only intensified those feelings. The reporters bragged that her music could melt the hardest heart.

Music was sold and CDs were made, yet Alexis hardly noticed the attention although her Uncle Adam did, as well as several other things. One night when she was eight, she had crawled next to him on the couch and told him about a strange dream she had had.

“I was floating in space,” she signed with quickly moving fingers, “with tons of stars around me. And there was also music…strange music.”

“Strange?” asked her uncle distractedly. “Strange in what way?”

“Well,” Alexis signed, looking up into his dark blue eyes. “It wasn’t really strange, it was just…different. It didn’t sound like any music I’ve ever heard before.” She sighed with sleepiness and closed her eyes. “But it was beautiful.” She did not see the strange look on her uncle’s face.

Throughout the passing years, Uncle Adam was always at Alexis’s side, encouraging and mentoring her. They were closer than teacher and student, closer than uncle and niece; they were best friends…until that icy night.

Chapter One

Alexis sat still on the cushion-covered bench, hearing but not comprehending the words that her father was speaking. Why did it matter? Why did they go to all of this trouble and pain? It made no difference, it did not change the fact that her Uncle Adam was dead.

She closed her eyes, remembering that awful day a week before, as she and her family stood at the wreck site, listening to the policeman say that no body was found. Alexis hadn’t listened much because she had been busy watching a truck tow pull the crushed car out of the gray water.

“He broke through the ice,” the man had said. “It was hours before we had discovered what had happened.”

Alexis could picture it now: his car slipping and skidding out of control on the frozen road, crashing through the guard railings, falling towards the silver ice below…

No! Her eyes snapped open. She had imagined it a thousand times and it didn’t do any good.

Her mother nudged her suddenly, and Alexis realized that her father was coming back to his seat. She slowly stood up, her legs shaking. The room was spinning around her and her hands were sweating and trembling. What was wrong with her? She had performed in front of people many times and had never gotten nervous like this before.

After finishing her shaky journey to the front of the room, she sat down heavily on the piano bench. Alexis had no music, but she needed none. She had memorized every note of this song by heart. Putting her fingers on the smooth keys, she found that her hands were slick with sweat, so she wiped her hands on her skirt and replaced them on the keyboard. Alexis took a deep breath and pressed her fingers down.

A sound like a wail erupted from the old piano and she added the eerie melody of the left hand. She had just composed the song the day after she had seen the crash site. It was herself, in a way, her feelings put into music.

The song rose and fell, always melancholy, sobs put into notes. Behind her, Alexis heard several sniffs but she continued to play, trying to concentrate on the notes, only the notes and nothing else. The music crescendoed into the finale and several people in the audience gasped in surprise. She had placed Uncle Adam’s favorite composition out of all that she had written into this song, a simple happy tune that contrasted with the rest of the song. Her eyes blurred and she hit a wrong note, and then another, and another. The music slowed and finally stopped.

Alexis jumped to her feet, staring at the room before her, a blur of black dotted with pale faces. She clenched her fists tightly and stumbled to the side door and into the hallway.

Finding refuge in the bathroom, she shut the door and scrubbed her face with a tissue. Looking in the mirror, she saw her gray eyes rimmed with red, and splotches covering her nose and cheeks.

Child prodigy, she thought. I’m nothing without Uncle Adam…

The door opened a crack. “Alexis?” said her mother.

Alexis ran to her mother who immediately held her in a tight hug. “Do you want to play something more cheerful when we get home? Ad…Adam liked happy songs.”

She shook her head firmly. “No more music,” she signed.

Her mother nodded. “I understand. You deserve a break.”

Alexis shook her head again. “No more music ever.”

Her mom sighed. “But…”

She stared at the floor without blinking.

“Whatever you want, dear. Do you-do you want some food?” her mom asked, hastily changing the subject. Alexis gave a slight nod and allowed herself to be led to the main room.

When they got home that evening, Alexis rushed to the piano. She gently brushed the dark wood with her fingertips, and then gathered up all of her music, dumped it into a plastic bag, and shoved it to the back of her closet. No matter how hard her family pleaded with her, she refused to bring it back out.

Throughout the following years, many people tried to play the dusty old piano, but the notes sounded flat and out of tune, lacking the warmth and emotion that Alexis could coax out. She sunk into a deep depression and the once cheery home was now filled with gloom. Any reporter that tried to do an article was gently pushed away.

The only few times that music played in their home, Alexis was drawn to the source of it like a moth to flame and stood there with something almost like a smile on her face, but she never joined in with smiles and clapping like she used to. When the music would end, the almost smile would fade from her and she would slowly walk away.

And every night, the strange music would play in her dreams.