As he walked into the kitchen, his mother questioned him, “Where were you dear? Didn’t see you anywhere in the house.”
Micheal shrugged and said, “It was a nice time for a walk.”
His mother looked from behind the counter and smiled, “Well, it’s getting dark, you want something to eat? ”
“Not really, lunch was heavy.”
“We’re going out in a bit, you want to come? ”
“Where to? ”
“The theater down by Sotheby’s, got tickets for that new movie, what was it, “The Curious Benjamin Button” or something.”
“I think I’ll pass, besides, I think I’ve seen the film, I need to get some sleep.”
“Well, alright, there’s some food in the fridge if you get hungry, we’ll be pretty late.”
Shrugging as always, Micheal walked into the living room to watch some television, but he was stopped on his tracks as his father walked in with his sisters Ava and Anna. Ava looked a lot like her mother, like all the other children leaving Micheal, bright green eyes under a pale blonde shade of hair that came from their mother’s Scandinavian ancestry. Micheal didn’t know why he stopped, so he started walking again. Just then Ava called Micheal.
“Mike, can you run up to my room and get me my handbag, I left it by the dressing table.”
“Fine.”
Micheal walked up the steps and entered the first room on the left. The room was a tad untidy, but overall, looked impressive. Wooden flooring, well-lit, heavy tapestry and everything. Crossing the room, he reached the dressing room. As said, the bag was there. As Micheal was picking it up, he heard a crunch. Looking down, he saw that he had stepped on a CD case. The case’s plastic was cracked. Cursing, Micheal picked it up and put it in his jacket pocket, along with the mints. He had no intention of explaining a broken CD case. Besides, she could just get another, if it was so meaningful.
“Thank you, aren’t you coming along too? ” his sister asked as he handed the bag over to her.
“Naah, I’ve seen the bloody thing, might as well get some sleep, ” came the nonchalant reply.
His sister smiled and started humming something. He recognized the scale, it was a diminished fifth in G, he was musically advanced enough to know that and besides it sounded nice and evil. Making a point to try it out on the violin, he walked over to his father, who was putting wiping his face with a hand towel by the sink.
“So, you made a friend I see? ” He said as soon he noticed Micheal.
Micheal looked at him, confused.
“Mary Howard, you walked in with her, rather, jumped in with her.”
“You saw that? ” Micheal looked on at his father, matching the humorous look with his own sardonic smile.
“Yeah, I was upstairs relieving myself when voila, I see my son jumping across the fence with a pretty lady.”
“What’re you getting at? ”
“Oh nothing, just pulling your leg, if I thought you were capable of being attracted to someone, I’d be pleased to hell.”
“So you think I’m emotionless huh? ”
“No, well, a little.”
Micheal just smiled on.
“You’ll be alright right? ”
“Dad c’mon, I’m not a bloody kid anymore.”
“Yeah, I know that, well, I have to take this infidel, ” Micheal’s father said looking at his mother, “out and the entire motley crew’s coming along, bloody brilliant.”
“Suck it up, old man, you got married.”
Micheal’s father laughed and then walked out the door, the entire family minus Micheal following. He closed the door, locked it, and then walked to his room.
The small room, was, the smallest in the house. It was also the weirdest. The lighting was a faint shade of orange that washed the room in a gloomy yet peaceful light. There was a mattress on the floor, a study table, a stand for sheet music and a closet. Other than that, the only thing that adorned his room was his violin and a poster with the original lyrics to Beethoven’s Ode to Joy.
Micheal opened the violin case, opened the false velvet covering that he had put on the inside, and took out a small stash of marijuana. Closing the case, he sat on the table and began crushing the weed, taking out the seeds in the process. Then he took out a cigarette from his jacket and proceeded to take all the tobacco out. Then he mixed the tobacco and put the mixture back into the cigarette. Any residue was put in the packet and then shoved back into the hidden compartment in the violin case.
Micheal then locked the door, and lit the joint, which he called a Strato, from the Stratovarius. He felt his head get lighter, his body started to feel lighter too. He could hear music, like he always did, reverberating in his head. His thoughts moved from music to the Howard girl. Micheal didn’t know why the hell he was thinking of her, but he was too drugged to care anyways. The Strato had been stronger than Micheal had thought and made it to be. The effect was nonetheless, quite good. He thought about her hair, long with red streaks in them, he liked the way they looked. It was quite unnatural to him, liking something about another person, it was a little unnerving.
Slowly, Micheal opened his jacket. As he did, the CD fell down. It looked blurred from where he was standing, so he picked it up. The CD had the eerie picture of some distorted man jumping from behind a tree with a sword and shield in his hand. The print said ‘Black Sabbath’, ‘Paranoid’. He turned the disc over, and the first track read ‘War Pigs’, followed by ‘Paranoid, ‘Planet Caravan’, ‘Iron Man’, ‘Electric Funeral’, ‘Hand Of Doom’, ‘Rat Salad’ and finally ‘Fairies Wearing Boots’. He knew instantly that this was one of the many ‘heavy metal’ bands that his sister heard. But there was something about the disc that seemed to appeal to him. Maybe it was because the cover and the album title didn’t make sense, maybe it was the out of the world track listing, the unreal names and the names of the band members. Ozzy Osbourne, Tony Iommi, God, it sounded like some freak show circus in which each of them had their heads way up their arses. They certainly looked like it, he saw that from the liner notes. But something about their appearance appealed to him. They symbolized the unreal, the misunderstood, the unknown, the forbidden, everything that was on the other side of ‘right’. Maybe it was that or the fact that he was stoned and had nothing to do, nonetheless, he put the disc into his laptop and put on his earphones. The first song was War Pigs, and it started with an overdriven guitar playing a slow, drawing riff. Immediately, Micheal felt his head spin, he could hear everything, from the imperfect production, to the dissonant and unimpressive singing, that seemed to fit the bill perfectly. He’d heard Luciano Pavarotti, but this sort of vocals was so alien, so different, so good. The breakdown started and the drums played a sort of constant roll over the guitar filling. The riff that followed would not have been too out of place in a jazz jam. Slowly the song started to progress, with the lead singer singing, but it was pretty clear that the guitar occupied the central role in the song. As the solo started, the usual solos that Micheal was familiar with in Jazz and Classical music which featured a more cleaner and much more technical approach were replaced with a style of playing that focused more on creating atmosphere and filling the song till it's tip and running over. The lack of another guitar was also made up by the drummer’s use of cymbals and the relative ease and simplicity of the song. There seemed nothing too technical about it. The movements were there, between choruses and verses and the interludes were there, but they were all different from classical music. The song sounded so, raw and heavy, despite being so simple.
If Micheal had thought that War Pigs was insane, he was not prepared for the next song that hit him like he tried to kiss a freight train. The song started in the key of E-minor with a little interlude between the same chord. It was so wild that he couldn’t even contain himself. His body started rocking back and forth on it's own accord. His foot starting tapping to the beat of the song. The lead singer started to sing something about finishing his woman, being thought as insane and what not. The anger and the quickness of the song was something that Micheal had not experienced before. He knew that the darkness of the song was much darker than the compositions of Wagner, but somehow, it appealed to him. It called to him.
By the time the solo started, his head was moving like a Ferris wheel. His consciousness started to ebb away from him, and about the same time the solo ended, his head hit the keyboard.
/ my profile 
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