Kidnap My Affection
Hyper Music
My anger channeled through my body, pulsing at my fingertips and onto the black and white keys of the piano. I had never in my life been played my beloved instrument in anger or frustration. Now that I thought of it, I had never in my life been this angry or frustrated.
This was all Beckhusen’s fault. She was the sole cause for all this anger and frustration. And would soon be the cause for facial blemishes if I didn’t calm down.
I finished my piece and rested my ands on my lap. There was a singular applaud coming from the doorway. Soft, slow, steady claps, these hands did not belong to a teacher or friend. I spun around to glare at the door. It was her.
“Amazing,” she said with an astonished air, “I didn’t know that such a self-centered jerk could play so well.”
People surely underestimated this girl. She may well have looked harmless and as if she were easy-pickings but under her cover of “pathetic” and “ugly”, this girl had the bite of a venomous snake.
“Quit glaring,” she said strolling over to the chair in the far corner. I noticed a cello that was leaned up against the wall in its stand. She picked it up and sat down in the chair. “Know any good piano-cello duets?”
I smirked turning back to my piano and began to play. As far as I was concerned, Rachmaninov’s, Prelude in G, Opus 32/5 was a piano piece, and did not have a cello score. Which is why what happened next really shocked me.
Beckhusen cut me off at the fifth measure and began to play the piece on the cello. This was a piano solo, there was surely no score written for the cello, it was a piano solo! But she played, without a score, with her eyes shut lightly, her fingers pressing down on the strings, dragging the bow across them. With each vibrating note from her beautiful instrument, my anger grew. I couldn’t take it. Slamming my hands down on the piano keys which emitted a reluctant twang, I stalked out of the music room, fists in my pockets.
She was good, I had to give her that, but there was no way that I would admit it to anyone but myself, and especially not to her! Why did she have to come here, why did she haunt my every step and movement. She must be the bane of my existence, sent here to earth to destroy me. Yes. That must be it.
I hadn’t even noticed but my thoughts had led me right to the door of my dormitory. I shrugged unlocking it. Might as well clean up for dinner time.
This was all Beckhusen’s fault. She was the sole cause for all this anger and frustration. And would soon be the cause for facial blemishes if I didn’t calm down.
I finished my piece and rested my ands on my lap. There was a singular applaud coming from the doorway. Soft, slow, steady claps, these hands did not belong to a teacher or friend. I spun around to glare at the door. It was her.
“Amazing,” she said with an astonished air, “I didn’t know that such a self-centered jerk could play so well.”
People surely underestimated this girl. She may well have looked harmless and as if she were easy-pickings but under her cover of “pathetic” and “ugly”, this girl had the bite of a venomous snake.
“Quit glaring,” she said strolling over to the chair in the far corner. I noticed a cello that was leaned up against the wall in its stand. She picked it up and sat down in the chair. “Know any good piano-cello duets?”
I smirked turning back to my piano and began to play. As far as I was concerned, Rachmaninov’s, Prelude in G, Opus 32/5 was a piano piece, and did not have a cello score. Which is why what happened next really shocked me.
Beckhusen cut me off at the fifth measure and began to play the piece on the cello. This was a piano solo, there was surely no score written for the cello, it was a piano solo! But she played, without a score, with her eyes shut lightly, her fingers pressing down on the strings, dragging the bow across them. With each vibrating note from her beautiful instrument, my anger grew. I couldn’t take it. Slamming my hands down on the piano keys which emitted a reluctant twang, I stalked out of the music room, fists in my pockets.
She was good, I had to give her that, but there was no way that I would admit it to anyone but myself, and especially not to her! Why did she have to come here, why did she haunt my every step and movement. She must be the bane of my existence, sent here to earth to destroy me. Yes. That must be it.
I hadn’t even noticed but my thoughts had led me right to the door of my dormitory. I shrugged unlocking it. Might as well clean up for dinner time.