The Controversial Keys, part 2

Part 1(read, if you haven't, because the story continues): http://storytimewithcicmila.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-controversial-keys-part-1.html

...

I wasn't allowed to touch the piano until I was in highschool, and even then it was not a simple procedure. Well, that was my first encounter with the piano that I wasn't afraid to play the notes. My music teacher must have noticed my love for music, because she would always stay a bit longer after class to teach me.

It wasn't much, and in the period of four years I did not learn more than a few songs, but every time I would play them, something new would wake inside of me.

So the moment has come for me to choose where I wish to continue my studies. I, of course, knew what I wanted, but I knew uncle would never approve. I've already made peace with the fact that my parents won't be coming back from the trip, so I didn't want uncle to be against me, not in any way.

Thinking back on it, at that point my uncle's opinion mattered more than anything to me. He's the one who had always taken care of me, the one I had grown up with.

I didn't have many friends growing up, I was more of a lone wolf, always lost in my thoughts, thinking of what kind of adventures my parents were going thorough. They were in the jungle, climbing mountaintops or swimming though the Nile.

I apologize, I've wandered off...

Even if I didn't have any friends, I was never lonely. I didn't miss friends, but I didn't push them away if they would approach me.

So, friends weren't tying me to any place, and I was of legal age to take care of myself, so the idea I got one day after school seemed as good as it gets.

I was to move back to my hometown and since the apartment I once lived in was long sold, I would try to get a scholarship in a music academy, to live and learn there.

It happened just the way I imagined it, but it wasn't until years later that I found out that my music teacher who had written the letter of recommendation was a former headmaster of the academy. So,I guess I didn't know that well back then about music.

Nevertheless, I was there for two years before I realized how good I actually am. That was when I was moved to a class that was a whole year ahead. That's when I met him.

Cicmila

The Controversial Keys, part 1

I remember being just a little girl when I first laid hands on the keys. It was in a museum of some sort, I remember it got my mum and dad in a lot of trouble. The surface was so smooth, they were calling me to press them. But I did not dare.

I think it was not by chance that my parents went away on the trip just the next day. I was left with my uncle who lived in a faraway city. He had a big house, so big I thought no matter how long I walk I will never see all of it. But, that was just because I was small.

Few months after that, I was on my way to explore the third floor. Being small, my head was always facing up, so the moment I got up there I saw the strangest thing: a door on the ceiling.
Living in a crowded building, I've never had an attic, so this was completely new to me.

To fast forward, I had to wait a couple of days to see my uncle going up there, and then another few to get the opportunity to go up there myself. It was dark, and I was a bit scared, but I took a flashlight with me, and the fear was overcome my amazement.

Boxes and bags, closets, tables, drawers, dolls, lamps, old bicycles, clothes, albums, a sailor rope and s much more, just from one look. A window thorough witch I could not see the street, but the sky draw my attention. I ran towards it and looked up, although it was too dark to see anything.

In the corner, a big object covered with a dark cloth. I approached it and grabbed one end, pulling it aside. It fell right off, revealing a sight I didn't think I'll ever see again.
The lid was lifted and the black and white keys were there, naked to my eye. I was hovering above them, so eager to touch.

Oh, the sound it made...

Cicmila

Grey

It's dark and grey. The whole world, washed out of color. The people, washed out of emotions.

A grey girl with a grey scarf walks past a grey boy, with a grey cap.

A man sits on a grey bench, next to a grey stone.

A grey sky, with a grey sun. Grey birds, silent. The grey world, lost.

A grey girl in a grey room, with a grey notebook opened before her. A grey pen in her hand. A grey bow on her head. She wishes to write, but the past four notebooks she could fill with only one thing: emptiness. She dreams of something more, but there's nothing more to dream of. 

Or... What if there is?

She ran to her bedside table and opened one of the drawers. Inside, a grey candle in a jar. She took it out, putting it on the table near the window. She lit the candle, shining out bright, grey light. She took her grey pen and started writing.
Her hand was flying over the papers in all directions, writing out words she didn't know the meaning of. Then she took the papers, folded them, and put them in the candle jar.
It burned, oh how it burned! In colors of red and orange, yellow and pink! Oh how it burned!
Then the wind blew from the window, swirling around the room, getting in the jar and out, carrying the ash with it.
It flew.
The girl opened her eyes, and lost her breath. Her rosy skin, green eyes and pink cheeks were looking back at her from the reflection in the window.
Hope. Happiness.

It flew.
The old man spotted a red rose and picked it up, placing it next to the silver stone. "Goodbye, my love. I will see you soon", he says.
Freedom. Trust. Loyalty. Strength.

It flew.
A girl ran to catch the red scarf that got carried away by the wind. It lands before the feet of a boy with a yellow cap. He picks it up for her. "Is it yours?", he asks. "Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you.", the girl replies. "Please, it was my pleasure. My name is...."
Beauty. Confidence. Love.

It flew.
The sun shining with unimaginable colors, the blue sky and colorful birds singing all around them. The once grey world, now colored. The people once washed out, reborn, full of life, happy.
Color. Emotion. Music. Nature.

It flew.
What did it fly over to you?

Cicmila