Horns of Revenge (Book 1 of Horns Unveiled Series)

Chapter 5

Flashback 5.

2255 – 2262 years.

Music school was both a punishment and a salvation for me. Sometimes it saved me from my main school, where I met only with bullying and nothing more. There were other, different children, more adequate and conscious, who studied at the music school. Some were gifted with talents to play musical instruments, sing, read specific musical literature.

But when it came to classes with my music teacher, I sometimes slipped into insanity from endless moralizing and repeating the same pattern of the piece that I had to play on the piano, minute after minute, to the point of nausea, to aching fingers, to tears of desperation. I was sent to a music school just to take up my time while my parents were always working to the right and left. My grandmother believed that I had a talent for music instruments and singing, so she helped me get into the music school through her friends. And every time I wanted to play outside with my friends, I had to go to the music school, or do homework, or learn complex pieces of music that I could not master in any way, and on top of that, I had my gymnastic classes.

Often, before the exams at the end of the year, the attitude towards me as a student worsened, I could be beaten on the hands for not being able to play the piece correctly. Sometimes it happened because of my long nails; she almost tore them out with force or cut them off right at the root, so my fingers hurt for several weeks after. It was terribly painful to play, but there was no choice. A few weeks before the exams, I couldn't sleep. I would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming from nightmares, or just wake up from a cold sweat, fearing that I might forget something. Chaotic thoughts drove me crazy every time.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Schwarzgrimm." I entered the class looking not at her but at the floor, like I was embarrassed or something. Actually I was. There were only two weeks left before the graduation exams, and my skill in mastering pieces of music seemed to be still at the bottom. As if I didn't represent anything. Probably it was the truth. At least that's how I felt. It seemed that I hadn't learned how to play properly during all these eight years of studying there. Either I played to the wrong rhythm of metronome, or the teacher basically didn't like the attitude with which I played her favorite musical pieces - etudes. Although I hated them. For all these many years of training, I had not been able to develop my finger fluency. I'd never been able to play music perfectly, as she demanded.

I always disliked playing piano exercises designed to enhance finger speed. They were mostly etudes or scales, and oh, how I despised playing them. They never seemed to work out for me the way the teacher required. She would beat my hands for mistakes and shout at me, and I would hold back tears, trying to play with my thick fingers as forcefully as I could. The teacher called them fat sausages, which clicked on the keys lifelessly and without any talent. I always played what was required of me, and nobody took into account my desires or the melodies I truly wanted to play on the instrument. Often, I would come home and try to pick up tunes from movies, TV series, cartoons, or anime by ear. It brought me great pleasure, and it was my little talent that only I could see. During those moments, I was truly happy.

However, most of the time, my grandmother would sit next to me during my practice sessions at home. She would listen to my piano playing and supervise the process, as I often got distracted and was restless. I played for her, and I enjoyed seeing how it brought her pleasant emotions. But when she passed away, a part of my soul also died. I stopped playing the piano for a while, but eventually, I gathered my strength and completed music school in her honor. Despite that, I never touched the piano keys again...

"Are you ready for the repetition in front of the others today?" Ms. Schwarzgrimm was standing near the window, looking at the people that were walking by the streets. Her short reddish hair shimmered in the spring sun. They reflected the rays beautifully. Her hands were folded on her chest, as if she had already been dissatisfied with her students since the morning, who had only done things that disappointed her.