Pianissimo

Chapter 1 - Crescendo

       

A single note resonated in the enclosed room. Amidst the darkness that filled the room, there was only one window that illuminated it, revealing the room's contents. A fireplace had remained untouched for months be told near the entrance. Layers of dust accumulated on the three dark brown leather couches that surrounded the fireplace; two that were adjacent from each other at the sides of the fireplace and one that was across from the fireplace. A dark wooden table stood in the middle of the set. On the other side of the room, a black grand piano stood and was embraced by a blanket of dust, keeping it warm from the coldness that seeped in. A young man sat there, right in front of the piano, and then played another note.

He sighed dramatically and ran his fingers through his shoulder-length flaxen-coloured hair, gripping a bunch in a frustrated manner as if to pull it out at any moment. His hands relaxed and he let his arms drop to his sides, his head falling back to blankly stare at the rugged surface of the beige ceiling above. Every time he inhaled, it felt like the cream-coloured walls were closing in on him despite the dark oak wood floor beneath him trying to keep the walls in place. This room was his paradise. No. Now, it was a chamber that kept his happiness driven deep into a dark abyss.

He closed his eyes, and focussed on steadying his irregularly beating heart.

"Maestro, you did another splendid performance of yet another one of your pieces! Bravo!" An image of a well-suited man with swept-back brown hair pushing his glasses up appeared. A small smile crossed his features. The blond in return smiled as well, but the joy didn't reach his eyes; a smile that was not genuine.

Ah, the etched markings on the ceiling seemed to become less and less noticeable the moment he opened his eyes. It was as if the darkness was finally engulfing him. Maybe, maybe this would be fine – no longer having to see reality, no longer having to live up to the name of Maestro of Peace. He was indeed renowned for pieces that set a soothing mood, or rather, pieces that specialized in the quietest range that it wouldn't be audible, yet it was audible. Ironic, but that's what made him the Maestro of Peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~♪♩♫♫♩♬♪♫~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft breeze swept across a grassy terrain. It was a flat plain. In the distance, rolling hills seemed to create a border as if it were a boundary that split a utopia from the dystopia known as reality. The sun floated in the sky and watched as two children were running across the field, chasing a fluttering white cloth in the wind, dancing like it were a butterfly in the sky.

"A-Almost got it!" strained the young girl as she reached out a hand towards the object, only to fall face flat onto the ground when she tripped over her own legs. The other child, a boy who shared similar features as her, leaped into the air and caught the object in his hands. He landed softly onto the ground and turned back, kneeling down in front of the blonde who was groaning in pain as she rubbed her face, tears threatening to fall out of her eyes. He chuckled slightly and shuffled on his knees to get behind the girl. Taking the piece of cloth, he skillfully wrapped it around her head to form a bow that rather looked like two bunny ears perched on her head.

She blinked her tears back and glanced at the boy behind her, giving him a big smile. "Thank you, Len!"

The boy, named Len, looked skeptically at her. She tilted her head. "Is there still some grass on me?"

Chuckling softly, the boy picked the blade of grass off of her hair. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

She shook her head, but he knew better. Her eyes wouldn't be so teary if nothing hurt at all. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, her two eyelids, her nose, and lastly her right cheek. As he withdrew, he was face-to-face with a very ripe tomato. He couldn't help but let out a laugh.