A
Girl at Crescent
Crescent
was a respectable school, instituted for students of musical talent.
The school’s objective and focus were entirely dedicated to the
nurture and development of music within gifted individuals. Now if
said individuals, perhaps, drank blood and were allergic to the sun,
or shapeshifted into predators by the light of the full moon – well
these were minor flaws that the professors were willing to overlook
provided that the candidate proved capable of restraining undesirable
activity. Eating one’s peers was not allowed.
Crescent
was a boys’ boarding music school. So, you decided to take a
midnight stroll outside around the borders of the campus, you would
be surprised to catch a glimpse of a girl leaning against a tree,
soaking up the moon’s beams as she waited for next period. Standing
alone and avoided by all other male students she would open her eyes
and gaze in your direction. She would not turn away but would
continue to stare, rather curiously, at you. Her eyes were sad,
looking nearly black in the dark, but you wouldn’t be scared. A
string inside of you would suddenly pull and stretch, pressing a need
against your heart. And the next time your mother tried to force you
to take piano lessons, you’d begin them with an eagerness that
would take her by surprise.
The
girl’s name was Jesse. Before that it had been Agatha. Before that
it was Delilah. The girl had lost count of her names. But she
remembered others.
First
there had been David, a young boy who killed a giant and became a
great king over a chosen race. He became famous for his “Psalms”
– songs that she had helped him discover when he had been but a
shepherd boy.
Next
came a German composer who grew famous for his concertos. As a boy,
she had led him into a nearby church and showed him how to play the
gorgeous pipe organ. From under the wings of a stone angel, she had
guided his fingers while he pumped the pedals.
Then
there was her autistic prodigy. Amadeus was always happy to see her
when she popped in surprise visits as his father took him and his
sister on a tour all over Europe. If ever the children had been
hungry, she would sneak them sandwiches before they gave a
performance.
She
had given hope to the deaf composer, Ludwig. She dried his tears in
his despair and had filled his head with tunes that calmed his heavy
soul. She persuaded him to share his music with the world, even if he
couldn’t hear the notes flowing out of the instruments, because the
music would always be inside of him.
After
that, she had taken a break, standing by to watch as the world grew
in music and wonder. Going to all the best theaters, she clapped the
loudest at Handel’s Messiah, listened to the choir sing Schupert’s
composition, and bought the first sheets of Chopin’s piano music.
But when she first met a Russian boy and saw the potential in him,
she couldn’t keep herself away.
Tchaikovsky’s
first ballet was a victory to them both. It was also the first time
she’d ever crossed the ocean over to the other continent. While
traveling around America, she felt its raw energy and aggressive
soul. So, after Tchaikovsky left back for his homeland, she stayed.
Now,
she was here at the school. Watching. Waiting. Until then, she did
not mind if the boys mocked and ostracized her. One day, she would
reveal her true nature.
After
all – she was a Muse.
Points: 825
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