A Sweet Melody & the Broken Chorus

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Rambunctious, Feb 2, 2015.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. The melodic piano notes sang sweetly around the institution ushering the anxiety and discomfit that boiled within Jameson. The man sat down outside the classroom. The piano's sweet song came to an end and a cheerful sound of children burst from the children's lips. The loud cheering made the war general jump, having his heartbeat quicken and his eyes widened. He turned to peer into the window, looking into it from the corner of the plastic window. He noticed the group of children all in their uniforms. His eyes searched upwards to see a young lady generously taking in the small praises, or so he assumed. He returned back to his seat having his arms crossed and squirming around in his seat to get comfortable. The mid-day was gentle this day. The sounds of bird chirping, the cool breeze that swayed the tree's bright green leaves, and the distinct sound of piano music playing.

    He leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. Jameson could hear people whisper when they walked past by the older man. He felt his eye twitch uncomfortably. The war general feared nothing, expect for children. The man looked into the corner of the window to lock eyes with a small elementary student. The child big brown eyes stared into his intense one's. Instead of fearing and running towards his teacher, the child smiled and giggled bringing out his rosy cheeks to a blush. Jameson slowly pulled himself away from the window. The child's smile made him feel warmth within his cold heart. The feeling dispersed when the door beside him opened. Out come a copious amount of small children running out of the class in glee. Jameson couldn't help but smile at that sight and stood up slowly. He smoothened out his white v-neck shirt to his blue beat-up jeans. He took in a deep breath and out -- preparing himself for the worst.

    The man reluctantly walked in. The room was bright, the wall were pristine white, tall slender white squared windows were penetrated by the suns gentle rays, and quaint elegant decor. The prominent item in the room was a big classic piano, beside it was the young teacher -- he approached slowly. "Hello, I'm here for my lesson." He felt abashed when he said the words. An early thirties war general asking for a piano lesson, he could see his comrades laughing at him already. He shook his head lightly chuckling softly pushing, eliciting the anxiety out.

    He walked towards the piano, studying the piano's sleek black gloss and the mechanics that is exposed to him. As he admired the piano he became oblivious to the lack of words coming out of his lips. It left an awkward silence between the two, which he became affected when he pulled away from the piano's beauty. He looked at her and tried to think of words. "When do we start?" He asked. His words came off rather aggressive and rough.
  2. Gracelynn's small, delicate looking fingers glided easily over the piano keys as she played Swan Lake. It was quite a simple song for her to play, so it took no effort for her. The kids watched her, enthralled by the tune, a mixture of expressions on their tiny faces. From awe to confusion to just plain happy. She loved to play the piano for the young students as she knew that they all loved it. And during nap time, she would often play a soft lullaby to help put them to sleep. Sweeping her gaze across the children, she smiled widely. One child's attention had turned away from her and was staring out the window at what she could only guess was a person, as she couldn't see out the window properly from her position. As the song drew to a close, the children became restless and she turned towards them with a gentle smile.

    They didn't wait for her to say anything, they jumped to their little feet and rushed towards her, telling her how good she was. She thanked each student and when one child gripped once of her fingers, she looked down at her. It was Renee. She had unruly curly red hair that Grace had tried on many occasions to smooth down. But it continued to spring up to frame her small face. She had a few freckles on her cheeks and big hazel eyes that stared up at her with a huge smile on her face. The young woman smiled warmly at the child and leaned down and picked her up. The girl squealed happily and threw her arms around her neck. Grace quite liked Renee. Atleast twice a week, she would need to stay behind with her as she waited for her parents to pick her up. She was a sweet child who craved attention. She often comes up during the day just to reach up and hold her hand with a big smile.

    Once she placed the child back on the ground and looked at the others. "All right, children, class is over," she told them and the children all yelled with glee and they rushed out the door, into the arms of their parents or relatives. She smiled once again as she watched them for a moment before she smoothed down her dress. It reached to just above her knees, with a pale yellow skirt and a peter pan collar the same colour. The shirt part was white with small black polka dots with short sleeves that just covered her shoulders. It was one of her favourite dresses.

    She looked down at the piano, running a hand over it absent-mindedly. Pushing her her glasses that had slid down the bridge of her nose, Gracelynn jumped when she heard a man's voice. She turned slightly and looked over at the man that was approaching. To say that he looked intimidating was an understatement. If she saw him on the street, it was quite possible that she would walk the other way. He looked rough. But as she studied him, she could see the shadowed, haunted look in his eyes even if he tried not to show it.

    He seemed to be admiring the piano, if his lack of words meant anything and she dared not say anything. When he finally looked away and spoke, Grace flinched slightly at his aggressive tone. She didn't know how she was going to go teaching this man. If she was honest, he kind of scared her. But this was her job and she'd do it. She gestured for him to take a seat in front of the piano. "Mr. Jameson, I presume? I'm Gracelyn.. Before we get started, i'd like to ask why you decided to learn to play the piano?" she asked. She knew only bits and pieces by what she had been told about him. His name was Jameson, that she knew. And he needed some help with his hand-eye coordination. She knew that much. But not much else. And Gracelynn always preferred to learn what she could about her students before she started to teach them.
  3. The man knew, very well, he frightened this woman. Body language and ambiguous languages are not unfamiliar details he does not miss easily. His dark jaded eyes looked over at the scrawny, yet elegant figure in search of any signs of fear. With a glance, he picked up three. Nervous body movements, eyes glancing around her surroundings avoiding eye contact, and her startled reaction each time he spoke. These actions were by far not foreign to his trained eye. Jameson disliked his intimidating aura – yet -- smiling was an odd countenance. He attempted to pull the corner of his lips upwards trying to form a smile -- instead of a sweetened smile the corner of his lips twitched oddly. A glimpse of his teeth was visible, but other than that he came off queer than amiable. He nodded off, praying to God that she didn't notice the unsightly sight of him attempting to smile at her. His lack of social skills was made up for his skills on the battlefield. Though those specific skills were useless at a time like this.

    He slowly walked towards the seat in front of the grand piano. The sets of keys were accorded with sharps and flat black keys overlapping them. Jameson stared at the keys with a strenuous countenance. The ex-general was in uncharted area. He looked up at his instructor and thought to himself for a moment, sparing the woman with idiotic, uh's or um's.

    "What am I here for, Hand eye coordination? Hah! Blaspheme I say! I have the best hand-" A slip of his finger and he pressed the e sharp key. He closed his eyes tightly hissing sharply. That was certainly unexpected of him. He could feel the discomfit feeling nestling inside him. His heart began to quicken its beat gradually. Jameson began to humiliate himself with ease, the heat rose to his cheeks making them rosy red. Fortunate for the man, his dark beard kept his colored cheeks hidden for a person to see. "Forget it. Fuck this." He thought to himself curtly. He sighed sharply letting a puff of air from his lips. A light shook of his head released him from a minuscule amount of embarrassment. He cleared his throat by grunting loudly, demolishing the lump in throat. In spite of clearing his throat loudly and quite aggressively, the lump kept its place in his throat.

    "Hand-eye-coordination." Jameson purposely answered in monosyllabic answers, he wanted to save the embarrassment for when the instructor begins the lesson. His large, rough hands were pulled away from the keys of the piano, and rested his hands on his thighs. "Can we get on with the lesson?" He began to grow impatient rapidly. His hands balled into a fist and his foot began to tap against the floor. The sound of the tapping echoed -- the sound bounced against the walls of the classroom.
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.