The Violinist
By: Selena Illyria
© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
I/R, Paranormal
15 Years Ago . . .
He pressed his ear to the door, listening. His hand squeezed into a fist, resisting the urge to open the door and peek. She was home. She was here, in the house. Ever fiber of his being was tuned into her presence. For the first time in months he was overjoyed, his angel, had returned to him. Well, not to him, she had returned home and that was enough for him. He could hear Mr. Humphreys' voice loud and clear, criticizing his daughter, Lea and all Lea would say was, "Yes, sir." or "No, sir."
Her soft voice, wrapping itself around his heart, squeezing it, making him light headed. He gritted his teeth, every word, made him angrier and angrier. He hated when Mr. Humphreys' criticized Lea. The man never had anything kind or nurturing to say to her, it was always a put down. He heard, the dismissal, "You can go."
And quickly rushed toward the opposite wall, tucking himself into a darkened alcove. He saw the door open and Lea come out, the bodice of her dress hugging her chest, showing the curve of her breasts and a hint of cleavage. Her floor length skirt belling out at the hips, the crimson color, complimenting her rich cocoa skin. His heart began to beat faster as he struggled to keep breathing. She was so beautiful, so perfect, so angelic to him, how could he not be in love with her? He bit his lip, his canines digging into the delicate flesh of his full bottom lip. He could taste the sweet metallic flavor of blood, as his teeth pierced the thin skin. He leaned his head back against the silk wallpaper. He watched as her head bowed, her fists clenched in held back anger and frustration. He understood her pain, knew what it was like to not be acknowledged as you wanted to be. He wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her and tell her she was loved and appreciated, that she was as beautiful as she was intelligent.
But he held his tongue, his whole body shaking from the effort of restraining himself. Mr. Humphreys had made it clear under no circumstances was she to know of his existence. He didn't know the reason why, but if he wanted to continue his lessons, he would not reveal himself to the girl he had fallen in love with. Besides her, his lessons meant everything to him. Playing the violin meant an escape from the life that would have awaited him should he break their deal. He dreamed of a life of fame and money and once that was accomplished he would break away from his cruel patron and introduce himself to his love. He dreamed that she would reciprocate his feelings and wish to marry him and then he would have everything he had ever wanted; his love, his music and a life beyond the prison of his bedroom in the mansion.
He watched her take a deep breath, raise her head, a single tear making it's way down her cheek. He held his breath as she dashed the evidence of her pain, away. Hands loosening, falling to her sides in a relaxed position, she turned and walked down the hall, taking with her, though she didn't know it, his heart. Sighing heavily, he crept down the hall in the opposite direction, toward his room, where he would practice crafting his trade as a violinist.
Closing the door softly behind him, he walked to his wooden chair by the single window of his room, currently covered in frost due to the cold. Opening his case, taking out his treasured instrument and bow, he began to play his scales, which soon morphed into a sad love song for a girl who did not know he even existed. Sebastian Bartholomew played well into the night, the same sad song over and over again, tears slipping down his face, eyes closed as he played the notes that expressed the pain of his heart. He had just come to a pause when he heard it, a soft rapping on his door. He opened his eyes slowly, green-gold eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness that had fallen in his room.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
His breath hitched, it was her! She had heard him playing. He quickly put his violin and bow back into the case. Closing the lid, he stood, straightening his wrinkled clothes. Taking in a deep breath, he walked toward the door, hand extended, ready to take hold of the knob and turn it, all he could think about was seeing her. Then he heard her voice, softly muttering, "Must be the radio."
No! His mind cried out. He rushed toward the door, no longer caring about the rules that had been laid out for him. He threw it open and rushed out into the hallway only to see her retreating figure, being swallowed up the darkness. He held back a howl of frustration. Rushing back into his room, he slammed the door and leaned against. He had missed his chance to finally see her, look into her brown eyes and hear her voice, up close and in personal. He slammed his fist into the door, once, twice, three times, head bowed, long black waves of his hair covering his face. Would fate continue to torment him like this? So close and yet so far, how long would he have to endure the pain of unrequited love before luck would grace him with it's presence? Gritting his teeth he looked up, eyes glittering, rushing over to his chair, he opened his violin case, took out his instrument and his bow and started to play like a demon, using the violin to express his rage at life. All the time one thought ran through his mind, one day he would break free of Mr. Humphreys and get back his life. He was tired of being tied to the curse that kept his soul in this dimension. Damn him for making a deal with a mortal.
By: Selena Illyria
© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
I/R, Paranormal
15 Years Ago . . .
He pressed his ear to the door, listening. His hand squeezed into a fist, resisting the urge to open the door and peek. She was home. She was here, in the house. Ever fiber of his being was tuned into her presence. For the first time in months he was overjoyed, his angel, had returned to him. Well, not to him, she had returned home and that was enough for him. He could hear Mr. Humphreys' voice loud and clear, criticizing his daughter, Lea and all Lea would say was, "Yes, sir." or "No, sir."
Her soft voice, wrapping itself around his heart, squeezing it, making him light headed. He gritted his teeth, every word, made him angrier and angrier. He hated when Mr. Humphreys' criticized Lea. The man never had anything kind or nurturing to say to her, it was always a put down. He heard, the dismissal, "You can go."
And quickly rushed toward the opposite wall, tucking himself into a darkened alcove. He saw the door open and Lea come out, the bodice of her dress hugging her chest, showing the curve of her breasts and a hint of cleavage. Her floor length skirt belling out at the hips, the crimson color, complimenting her rich cocoa skin. His heart began to beat faster as he struggled to keep breathing. She was so beautiful, so perfect, so angelic to him, how could he not be in love with her? He bit his lip, his canines digging into the delicate flesh of his full bottom lip. He could taste the sweet metallic flavor of blood, as his teeth pierced the thin skin. He leaned his head back against the silk wallpaper. He watched as her head bowed, her fists clenched in held back anger and frustration. He understood her pain, knew what it was like to not be acknowledged as you wanted to be. He wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her and tell her she was loved and appreciated, that she was as beautiful as she was intelligent.
But he held his tongue, his whole body shaking from the effort of restraining himself. Mr. Humphreys had made it clear under no circumstances was she to know of his existence. He didn't know the reason why, but if he wanted to continue his lessons, he would not reveal himself to the girl he had fallen in love with. Besides her, his lessons meant everything to him. Playing the violin meant an escape from the life that would have awaited him should he break their deal. He dreamed of a life of fame and money and once that was accomplished he would break away from his cruel patron and introduce himself to his love. He dreamed that she would reciprocate his feelings and wish to marry him and then he would have everything he had ever wanted; his love, his music and a life beyond the prison of his bedroom in the mansion.
He watched her take a deep breath, raise her head, a single tear making it's way down her cheek. He held his breath as she dashed the evidence of her pain, away. Hands loosening, falling to her sides in a relaxed position, she turned and walked down the hall, taking with her, though she didn't know it, his heart. Sighing heavily, he crept down the hall in the opposite direction, toward his room, where he would practice crafting his trade as a violinist.
Closing the door softly behind him, he walked to his wooden chair by the single window of his room, currently covered in frost due to the cold. Opening his case, taking out his treasured instrument and bow, he began to play his scales, which soon morphed into a sad love song for a girl who did not know he even existed. Sebastian Bartholomew played well into the night, the same sad song over and over again, tears slipping down his face, eyes closed as he played the notes that expressed the pain of his heart. He had just come to a pause when he heard it, a soft rapping on his door. He opened his eyes slowly, green-gold eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness that had fallen in his room.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
His breath hitched, it was her! She had heard him playing. He quickly put his violin and bow back into the case. Closing the lid, he stood, straightening his wrinkled clothes. Taking in a deep breath, he walked toward the door, hand extended, ready to take hold of the knob and turn it, all he could think about was seeing her. Then he heard her voice, softly muttering, "Must be the radio."
No! His mind cried out. He rushed toward the door, no longer caring about the rules that had been laid out for him. He threw it open and rushed out into the hallway only to see her retreating figure, being swallowed up the darkness. He held back a howl of frustration. Rushing back into his room, he slammed the door and leaned against. He had missed his chance to finally see her, look into her brown eyes and hear her voice, up close and in personal. He slammed his fist into the door, once, twice, three times, head bowed, long black waves of his hair covering his face. Would fate continue to torment him like this? So close and yet so far, how long would he have to endure the pain of unrequited love before luck would grace him with it's presence? Gritting his teeth he looked up, eyes glittering, rushing over to his chair, he opened his violin case, took out his instrument and his bow and started to play like a demon, using the violin to express his rage at life. All the time one thought ran through his mind, one day he would break free of Mr. Humphreys and get back his life. He was tired of being tied to the curse that kept his soul in this dimension. Damn him for making a deal with a mortal.
5 comments:
Excellent music! Intriguing excerpt.
Very cool!!!
Oooh VERY nice! I love it!
How intriguing! I'm ready for more - you know, the "why's" are popping all over my mind.
Don't keep us in suspense! Give me more! *GRIN*
Post a Comment