Matias in Wonderland
Chapter one
'Why is everything so dark? What the fuck is this? Ah my head feels like someone bashed it in with an aluminum baseball bat. My arms feel like noodles, I can’t even feel my legs. Oh jeeze what’s this warm stuff all over my waist, eww its sticky…warm sticky, I can’t feel anything below my waist. Oh shit! Please tell me I still have function of everything below my waist! How am I supposed to be a man if I can’t even work my precious, precious dick! Damn you stupid eyes open. I want to see the damage; I refuse to be left without a dick.'
~Twelve hours before~
“Look at me Matais!” A little girl of around seven ran around her front lawn doing what she thought were summersaults. “Oh yeah, that’s great Oli!” Matias, Olive’s bigger brother waved her off while he continued to tune his guitar. “You’re not looking you douche!” Olive marched up to her brother, the light illuminating the porch and Matias made Olive’s eyes grow and sparkle. She would never say it out loud but her brother was just about the most handsome boy she’s ever seen. She wanted desperately to have his proud smile all to herself. “Matias look, stop looking at the stupid guitar!” Matias looked to his little sister and smiled. Her breath stuck in her throat, that stupid douche could do that to her. He patted her head and told her to wait. He resumed tuning his guitar by ear. Olive huffed; he liked to play with that stupid guitar more than he like to play with her.
Matias smiled proudly and held up his acoustic, it was tuned perfectly, all he needed now was his tri-pick and he’d be set. He gently laid his guitar on the chair to his right and headed back inside. “Wait here Oli.” He said as he dashed inside. Olive glared at the guitar, it was older than her, and Matias had had it longer than she’d been born. It was his friend, lover, and child all in one. Exactly how long had he had it, ten years? She remembered the story of how he got it, her parents where very proud of the musician they called their son. It started in his freshman year of high school. He needed elective credits so he joined band. He tried the baritone, the tuba, the flute, saxophone, drums, snares, about everything in the class room, but he couldn’t get a descent sound out of any of them. His teacher, Mr. Hemmings, gave Matias a C for effort, but what could he do for finals, the principal would see the recital coming up and grade the students himself.
There was only four instruments he hadn’t tried left, three of them taken, the last one no one wanted. The principal hated, absolutely hated the electric guitar. After some thought Mr. Hemmings gave Matias a shot with the guitar. Matias was an instant natural. Mr. Hemmings placed the Les Paul into Matias’ hands and sat back. Matias looked at him, his head cocked to the side and his eyes puzzled. “Play Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Mr. Hemmings demanded. Matias opened his mouth. “I don’t care if you’ve never played. Sound it out.” Matias spent five minutes hitting every tab on the guitar on every string. He hummed Mary Had a Little Lamb, and played it perfectly the first time around. Mr. Hemmings let out the breath he’d been holding since Matias plucked the first note, and smiled. Mr. Hemmings gave Matias a book, and a score sheet to Flight of the Bumble Bee, the principals’ favorite classical song.
Two weeks later, Matias had learned the song perfectly, he no longer needed to look at the score, and the band he had set up had it down to a T. The drums, the piano and accompaniment violin and cello were down and ready to play. It was finals time for the band class. Everyone got to school early and finished one hour before school ended to hear the band play. The students all groaned, like they wanted to hear a whole mess of Disney songs being played by amateurs, and classical music being played by the semi-pros. Matias band was tenth to last, he was right in the middle; so far the principal had passed about five other bands. Mostly the semi-pros, the Disney music didn’t suit his taste; the beginning choir was all that was left for the armature bands. Luckily Matias and his band didn’t need any singers.
It was time for Matias to play, as his band set up Matias caught the principal giving him dirty looks already. Just from his face Matias could tell what the principal was thinking. Oh an electric guitar eh? Well this will absolutely blow chunks, I’m sure. Matias stood straighter and sent a small smirk to the principal, the girls around the principal screeched in delight, thinking it was directed to them. The principal looked at his booklet; the previous band had played Two Worlds by Phil Collins, and completely butchered it to a million pieces. What is this brat gonna play, Crazy Train, by that crazy Britt Ozzy? Or maybe something like what was it Enlightenment…no Nirvana. What the hell the Flight of the Bumble Bee? Hehe like to see him try.
“Good evening Las Vegas!”Matias crooned, the girls swooned, Matias smiled, the drum player started out hitting his sticks together. “One, one two three four” Matias’ chest rose dramatically as he swallowed air, then magic enveloped his fingers and guitar. To the principal and everyone in the auditorium, it was like they were in a meadow filled with daisies, tulips, geraniums and all kinds of flowers on a nice spring day, following a little bee hectic to find some pollen. The song ended, it took a moment for everyone to come to their senses. Matais and his band gulped, the auditorium was dead silent. Slowly but surely people started to stand up. Everyone stood up, save for one person, the principal. He sat there for a second, his mouth set in a frown. He shook his head in disbelief and began clapping, slowly rising from his seat. Soon the whole rest of the auditorium erupted in cheers.
Ever since then Matias was a guitar player. It had been ten years since then, and Matias was at the top of the world. He wasn’t world renown, nor did he have a label, but his hometown loved him. Olive was sick of that story. Her parents told it to her every time Matias came to visit. Olive loved her brother dearly, but she didn’t want to hear about the guitars all the time. Every minute Matias was with a guitar, was one less minute he spent with her. This guitar, Matias’ first acoustic was a CF Martin. Mr. Hemmings and the principal bought it for him about two months after the final. It was with Matias for three years before Olive was born, Olive couldn’t stand that guitar, it spent more time with Matias, than she did.
A light bulb seemed to go off above her head. If the guitar were to disappear, Matias would have no guitar for the next two weeks until he went back to his apartment. Matias would have to spend some alone time with her now. She would hide it at her friend’s house. Matias would never find it there. She grabbed the guitar and ran for it. Matias was out the door by the time Olive was down the block. “Olive!” Matias yelled as he ran after her. No one but Matias was allowed to touch that guitar.
Olive yelped she cut across the street; twelve feet away a car was speeding down the block. Matias felt his world slow down, his eyes widened, his heart stopped. Olive froze in the middle of the street. “Olive!” Matias yelled his body was graced with speed; he seemed to have grown wings as he jumped into the street. Olive was pushed into the sidewalk along with the guitar. The car screeched to a stop, but not before hitting Matias and sending him over the roof of the car, and hitting the pavement on the other side.
“Matias!” Olive screamed as she picked herself up of the curb. Her eyes were wide with shock, she’d seen the car hit her brother and the way Matias’ body moved like a rag doll as he was hit. The driver of the car got out an older woman in her forties came out. She was already on the phone yelling for the paramedics to hurry to Forty first and Edison. Olive hurried to her brother who lay crumpled in the street.
“Matias!” She screeched. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry please! I didn’t mean to. Don’t die Matias.” Blood seeped freely from the gash on Matias’ temple and from his mouth. His arm was bent at an odd angle, there was a large bruise forming across his waist from where the car had hit him.
His vision was a little blurry, and his hearing wasn’t so clear either. He saw his little sister crying and the older woman who was driving the car. She had big blonde hair, her face was wrinkled, but she was no old hag. ‘Fuck you bitch.’ He thought bitterly before his sight completely left.
~Twelve hours before~
“Look at me Matais!” A little girl of around seven ran around her front lawn doing what she thought were summersaults. “Oh yeah, that’s great Oli!” Matias, Olive’s bigger brother waved her off while he continued to tune his guitar. “You’re not looking you douche!” Olive marched up to her brother, the light illuminating the porch and Matias made Olive’s eyes grow and sparkle. She would never say it out loud but her brother was just about the most handsome boy she’s ever seen. She wanted desperately to have his proud smile all to herself. “Matias look, stop looking at the stupid guitar!” Matias looked to his little sister and smiled. Her breath stuck in her throat, that stupid douche could do that to her. He patted her head and told her to wait. He resumed tuning his guitar by ear. Olive huffed; he liked to play with that stupid guitar more than he like to play with her.
Matias smiled proudly and held up his acoustic, it was tuned perfectly, all he needed now was his tri-pick and he’d be set. He gently laid his guitar on the chair to his right and headed back inside. “Wait here Oli.” He said as he dashed inside. Olive glared at the guitar, it was older than her, and Matias had had it longer than she’d been born. It was his friend, lover, and child all in one. Exactly how long had he had it, ten years? She remembered the story of how he got it, her parents where very proud of the musician they called their son. It started in his freshman year of high school. He needed elective credits so he joined band. He tried the baritone, the tuba, the flute, saxophone, drums, snares, about everything in the class room, but he couldn’t get a descent sound out of any of them. His teacher, Mr. Hemmings, gave Matias a C for effort, but what could he do for finals, the principal would see the recital coming up and grade the students himself.
There was only four instruments he hadn’t tried left, three of them taken, the last one no one wanted. The principal hated, absolutely hated the electric guitar. After some thought Mr. Hemmings gave Matias a shot with the guitar. Matias was an instant natural. Mr. Hemmings placed the Les Paul into Matias’ hands and sat back. Matias looked at him, his head cocked to the side and his eyes puzzled. “Play Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Mr. Hemmings demanded. Matias opened his mouth. “I don’t care if you’ve never played. Sound it out.” Matias spent five minutes hitting every tab on the guitar on every string. He hummed Mary Had a Little Lamb, and played it perfectly the first time around. Mr. Hemmings let out the breath he’d been holding since Matias plucked the first note, and smiled. Mr. Hemmings gave Matias a book, and a score sheet to Flight of the Bumble Bee, the principals’ favorite classical song.
Two weeks later, Matias had learned the song perfectly, he no longer needed to look at the score, and the band he had set up had it down to a T. The drums, the piano and accompaniment violin and cello were down and ready to play. It was finals time for the band class. Everyone got to school early and finished one hour before school ended to hear the band play. The students all groaned, like they wanted to hear a whole mess of Disney songs being played by amateurs, and classical music being played by the semi-pros. Matias band was tenth to last, he was right in the middle; so far the principal had passed about five other bands. Mostly the semi-pros, the Disney music didn’t suit his taste; the beginning choir was all that was left for the armature bands. Luckily Matias and his band didn’t need any singers.
It was time for Matias to play, as his band set up Matias caught the principal giving him dirty looks already. Just from his face Matias could tell what the principal was thinking. Oh an electric guitar eh? Well this will absolutely blow chunks, I’m sure. Matias stood straighter and sent a small smirk to the principal, the girls around the principal screeched in delight, thinking it was directed to them. The principal looked at his booklet; the previous band had played Two Worlds by Phil Collins, and completely butchered it to a million pieces. What is this brat gonna play, Crazy Train, by that crazy Britt Ozzy? Or maybe something like what was it Enlightenment…no Nirvana. What the hell the Flight of the Bumble Bee? Hehe like to see him try.
“Good evening Las Vegas!”Matias crooned, the girls swooned, Matias smiled, the drum player started out hitting his sticks together. “One, one two three four” Matias’ chest rose dramatically as he swallowed air, then magic enveloped his fingers and guitar. To the principal and everyone in the auditorium, it was like they were in a meadow filled with daisies, tulips, geraniums and all kinds of flowers on a nice spring day, following a little bee hectic to find some pollen. The song ended, it took a moment for everyone to come to their senses. Matais and his band gulped, the auditorium was dead silent. Slowly but surely people started to stand up. Everyone stood up, save for one person, the principal. He sat there for a second, his mouth set in a frown. He shook his head in disbelief and began clapping, slowly rising from his seat. Soon the whole rest of the auditorium erupted in cheers.
Ever since then Matias was a guitar player. It had been ten years since then, and Matias was at the top of the world. He wasn’t world renown, nor did he have a label, but his hometown loved him. Olive was sick of that story. Her parents told it to her every time Matias came to visit. Olive loved her brother dearly, but she didn’t want to hear about the guitars all the time. Every minute Matias was with a guitar, was one less minute he spent with her. This guitar, Matias’ first acoustic was a CF Martin. Mr. Hemmings and the principal bought it for him about two months after the final. It was with Matias for three years before Olive was born, Olive couldn’t stand that guitar, it spent more time with Matias, than she did.
A light bulb seemed to go off above her head. If the guitar were to disappear, Matias would have no guitar for the next two weeks until he went back to his apartment. Matias would have to spend some alone time with her now. She would hide it at her friend’s house. Matias would never find it there. She grabbed the guitar and ran for it. Matias was out the door by the time Olive was down the block. “Olive!” Matias yelled as he ran after her. No one but Matias was allowed to touch that guitar.
Olive yelped she cut across the street; twelve feet away a car was speeding down the block. Matias felt his world slow down, his eyes widened, his heart stopped. Olive froze in the middle of the street. “Olive!” Matias yelled his body was graced with speed; he seemed to have grown wings as he jumped into the street. Olive was pushed into the sidewalk along with the guitar. The car screeched to a stop, but not before hitting Matias and sending him over the roof of the car, and hitting the pavement on the other side.
“Matias!” Olive screamed as she picked herself up of the curb. Her eyes were wide with shock, she’d seen the car hit her brother and the way Matias’ body moved like a rag doll as he was hit. The driver of the car got out an older woman in her forties came out. She was already on the phone yelling for the paramedics to hurry to Forty first and Edison. Olive hurried to her brother who lay crumpled in the street.
“Matias!” She screeched. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry please! I didn’t mean to. Don’t die Matias.” Blood seeped freely from the gash on Matias’ temple and from his mouth. His arm was bent at an odd angle, there was a large bruise forming across his waist from where the car had hit him.
His vision was a little blurry, and his hearing wasn’t so clear either. He saw his little sister crying and the older woman who was driving the car. She had big blonde hair, her face was wrinkled, but she was no old hag. ‘Fuck you bitch.’ He thought bitterly before his sight completely left.
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