Flux and Fire

Sebastian Scott was the sort of man that nobody wished to deal with. He was the sort of man that bottles his dreams like he bottles his brandy; in a dusty box deep in the cellar, never to be glanced at or touched. He was cold, dark, unfamiliar, and lonely. He was the sort of man that never left the house, never answered his letters, and left his piano just as untouched as the alcohol.
But he wasn’t always this way. There was a time when the blind man had laughed, and sang, and composed the most beautiful music anyone had ever heard. He painted the world around him, with the orchestra as his great, aural brush, and everyone from miles around would come and visit him there.
He had loved unlike anyone had loved, and that is what ended him.