The Color of Music

Vinyl Records

Prove it.

There's stress in the air. It's thick and you can't breath. Everyday I go into the bathroom and see girls crying because they can't get a note right or they're off tempo. The singer's haven't been eating. Many string instrument players fingers are bloody and bandaged. People rarely speak to one another. The cafeteria is now vacant. Everyone's practicing in one place or another. And I'm here. No playing at all.

Prove it.

And it's all because it's tomorrow. The Formal. The anxiety is plausible in the air. You can taste the jealousy, feel the frustration. The school has been silent lately. Eerily so in fact. The halls are mostly empty. That feeling of fear is like a virus spreading wherever you go. Everyone's cut class to practice. Though no one gets in trouble, the teachers understanding the reasons. I on the other hand get the cold shoulder when I actually show to class and the teachers think I'm slacking. The urge to play is unbearable. The twitching in my hands. They long for something. Something I know I can't give them. I can't do them justice. I can't do anything justice. Everything I touch turns to dirt. I just can't do it. I can't....

Prove it.

Thoughts churn in my head as I walk down the sidewalk. Kicking rocks and hearing the death of fall's leaves crunch under my feet. The cold whips past me, the seasons finally catching up to this city. All signs of the summer before school fading. I keep my hands in my pockets constantly checking the 5000 dollars I was given.

I pull out the crinkled paper again to check the directions. My eyes scan it again to make sure I made my turn. My brows slope into confusion.

"It should be right here." I whisper to myself. I spin around looking for the store I was supposed to go to. God knows how far I've come to get there so where is it? This whole area is different from where we live. The trees have no leaves, spikey in a threatening way. The sidewalk uneven and cracked. My heart rate picks up realizing I should have taken a cab here. Helen to me to. Damnit Sonata why are you so stubborn!

I scan the street one more time. My eyes devouring every inch of the space. An old dark building grabs my attention. The velvet bricks caught my eye along with the faint shimmer of lights on. I tilt my head to the side in confusion. It looks a lot like a store. I walk up to the building and step back into the street to get a better look at the property. Bolded letters spelling Music Shop on the front. The letters peeling making it hard to read. I sigh, this must be it. Why would a music store be so far from the house? Why was Helen so insistent I go to this one?

I walk into the store immediately met with mixed emotions. The space had colors that made me calm yet the place was so cluttered. Nothing was in order it was a mad house. I step through the threshold and up to the counter. A glass display case with a cashier on it. There's a small bell on the counter. The words ring me on it. With one tap I ring it, though I doubt the sound made it through all this clutter. After a few moments of no response I assume the store is closed and I'm trespassing. I turn to leave.

"The chair!" Someone's muffle voice alerts me. I look around I see no one. Am I hearing things again? I swear...

"The chair child! Sit in chair!" The voice sounds again, thick with an accent. In the very back of the store I see a white wooden door slightly ajar. Light spewing out the crack. Oh is all I can think.

I look around for this chair he wants me to sit in. I scan the store and find a fuzzy blue chair by the front door with the words SIT taped to it. Ok...