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CHAPTER TWO,
HIS MOONLIGHT SONATA.
THE FIRST SONG I EVER SANG in my room was Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.
There is a specific feeling within singing your own song, by yourself, and in the presence of your own personal belongings. In my imagination, I changed my action figures to be people instead of real individuals. They were staring and gleaming from my talent, but cackled at my lack of confidence. That day, I used a wooden pencil as a microphone and a paper-made guitar as my prop. I imagined myself as a superstar who got the career in the end and was happy with himself.
I often loved to imagine things. I imagined myself as someone who is appreciative of my lifestyle, with fans begging for autographs, tour buses and their odd smells, my headset wrapped around my curly hair whenever I'd perform a song.
Unfortunately, that has and never will be the case.
I close my eyes in content as my fingers glide across the white keys effortlessly. Beethoven had recently become a favorite of mine and after studying 'Moonlight Sonata' I wanted to be able to play it with no mistakes. I opened my eyes to fall on the white sheet of music standing on my piano, my eyes ran over it to replicate the same keys. I lick my thumb and quickly flip to the next page as I begin the climax of the song.
There was a spark of interest that began just over two months ago. I grew up appreciating who Mozart was and his music. His songs seemed to speak to me with his twists and turns. But listening more to Beethoven showed me a different perspective of music. Music that makes you think about the ups and downs in your lifetime and makes you close your eyes in thought of what the artist could have been thinking of as he wrote his beautiful melodies.
He was an enigma I don't believe I'd ever have the power to understand, but maybe sometime in the future I could decipher his thoughts and his emotions. But it was technically impossible since–you know, he's been dead for centuries.
The final note I play on this instrument is a C sharp, which I mostly mess up on, but I grin smally when I realize that I finally have accomplished the song.
However, my time is cut short.
"Sage." I hear a deep voice speak. It sounds as if it is beginning to turn into a command, and I already clench my jaw as I run my hands through my messy curls to prepare for the irritation I'm about to feel from the depths of my very soul. "Off the piano. Now."
I glance down at my hands and the veins that connect to my forearms. I see my tattoos that dance across my fingertips and my hands. The black, bolded musical notes and my mother's name is the first I see in line with my vision. I raise both my arms and lean them on the lid of my piano, my tattoos appearing below the sleeve of my graphic t-shirt.
