Unsung Notes

Prologue

"LOOK OUT!"

I screamed, panicked, desperately ducking to avoid a fallen piece of the roof, then backtracking to keep my distance from the disintegrating wall. Actually there wasn't anyone there, I'd just said it for some unfathomable reason. My reflex isn't entirely made for these kinds of situations.

My heart rammed into my chest, faster and harder than I've ever imagined possible, and I realized that endorphin doses from any exercise in my 17-year-old life cannot ever compare with the effects of adrenaline in what I perceive as a life-threatening danger.

My phone buzzed softly, a song I can barely hear flowing out of it. It was a relaxing song. One of Mozart's actually. Because that was what I had been intending to do— relaxing and start thinking. Running for my life hasn't been my idea, though obviously I can't help but go along with it.

"Stop the music!" A neighbor's voice maybe? Can't they see I am busy ducking from a collapsing two-stories building? Sure, it's made of wood, but material type is not exactly an excuse for the fact that there's heavy debris falling on your head, is it? Besides, this noise can barely be heard over the sound of cracking wood. What kind of easily annoyed neighbor is this, complaining over such a small sound.

Another debris fell, and I cowered with my hands up to block it. Something thumped beside my feet. I ran the other way.

Curious. I had been almost sure that piece was going to hit me.

Earthquake protocol dawning, I ducked under a heavy wooden desk. It had almost come too late, but hey, where I came from I had heard of the protocol only a few times, and I think no training ever. It was a good thing I paid attention to Home Economics class in primary school.

I used the moment I gained from being under the table to finally turn off the soft music, but not as much to follow the neighbor's instruction as to conserve battery.

Have I mentioned that I just appeared somewhere without electricity?

Guess not, but I'll fill you in later.

If I survived.

As soon as I tapped the stop icon, silence fell on the house. The wood stopped shaking and cracking, furnitures finally stay where they were, a few debris followed gravity and hit the desk with far less terrifying thunks, and then just that— silence.

I looked at my phone, and looked up. Had Mozart's music just shook the house up?

My host for today— who I had called for by reflex but was actually out working he fields— rushed towards me.

I felt fear rising in me. Did I done something wrong?

All my relatively short life, I had prided myself on following the rules. I had forgot a homework now and then, and got hit in the palm with a hard ruler, but all in all I have always been a proud brown-noser.

Teachers like me and on average adults (who isn't too close to me) adore me.

I have no idea how to deal with a accusation or an argument, and certainly not one I am caught so red-handed.

My standard procedure is to bow my head, look sorry and accept it all. Abandon my standing point in an argument completely.

But.... did my music really just destroyed the house?

This is definitely somehow illegal.

The farmer finally picked his way right next to the desk.

While I was still deciding whether to play innocent and confused or to apologize outright, the farmer knelt before me, a yard away on the front side of the desk, and bowed.

"My lord! It is my most pleasure to have you in the house, sir! I am exceedingly sorry I did not provide adequate housing, a- and to be out working the field, sir.... I... I didn't know...."

His voiced quivered a little, at the end.

My mind reeled. My emotions reeled. I had been prepared to be accused, and so, without knowing anything else to say, I said the most obvious thing in my mind,

"I- I'm sorry for your house.... sir?"