I've actually been writing.
Legit. I mean it! Believe me. Actually, here's something that I wrote in response to something I've been doing with my new-found friend Dan that I decided could be a makeup for about a billion missed notecards. It's absurdity. If you want more absurd stuff, I'll put up more postings this week so you can see where my mind's been at! Actually, you really have no say...it's happening.
The Project
It was hard to believe it, but the project was finally almost over. There were only a few things left to do; a few things to tweak. Then it would all be set in the past. The final presentation was only days away. The festival in which everyone showed off their work and took pride in their accomplishments was right around the corner, and before long would come the ceremony showing that all of their effort had not been in vain.
It was so close, one could taste it. The victory of grasping that final moment of achievement when it was realized that everything you had worked for finally gave a fruitful result.
Odessa sat in her seat quietly. It was the day of the final presentation. Each novice was to present their project to the community.
The project was a lifelong task that was undertaken by novices until their eighteenth year. It was a talent that was chosen at the age of five, at the latest, and perfected over the years with the use of various references. Novices could seek out mentors and assistance if needed, but it wasn’t always the preferred path. Their talent was kept silent and secret until the day of the presentation. This was when everyone would see what work had been developing over the course of thirteen years.
Almost all chose talents in power: psychic, strength, physicality, weaponry, deference, etcetera and so forth. In a world that was once plagued with war, it was important to keep on edge and on the tips of one’s toes. Anything could happen at any moment, and all the help was needed. It was expected that the peace would not last forever. It wouldn’t be long before it all changed again.
As she watched her classmates perform their tasks, the applause in the crowd only grew louder and more impressed with each novice. The presentation had started out with a novice who had mastered the art of Wing Chun Kung Fu, a martial art that was able to internally debilitate one’s opponent. This was before progressing into a novice who had mastered the precision of archery to the finest point where he could pin a fly to the wall from at least a hundred feet off with the assistance of his telescopic glasses. Each novice was just as if not more intimidating. One was able to psychically control the objects around her; another could conjure up the force of the elements.
Odessa stared at her sweating hands as she felt her time drawing near. Would her talent be good enough? Would she be able to impress the community? Had her years of dedication and progression been all for naught? There was no more time to waste on such thoughts as she heard her name called.
She took a deep breath and stood. As she ascended to the stadium’s platform, her legs felt weak and ready to collapse beneath her. However, the confidence she needed soon entered her body as she saw the piano erected from below the surface of the platform.
A dead silence fell over the entire stadium.
It had been so rare and so long a time since someone had chosen an art for their talent. Arts were such useless tasks to dedicate one’s time to. What good were they?
Odessa’s fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before she closed her eyes and played what was perhaps one of her most favorite pieces; Rhapsody in Blue. It was not the most difficult she had ever learned, and it was much different without the accompaniment of a jazz band that she knew would never be there to support her sound, but it had such a passion and emotion behind it that couldn’t be contained.
As she played the close to ten minute piece, she felt herself become lost in the movements and sounds that emitted from the instrument as she played each necessary key, each complicated run of notes. And finally, it was as if she had completely ceased to exist as just herself. She had become a part of the piano as the crescendo of an ending filled her system witch such a longing fervor and dedication to the sound and music that sang out into the stadium. As the final notes died away, the silence overtook and permeated the air with such a choking deafness.
Odessa stood and walked away from the instrument to the center of the platform. Nothing. There was no sound, no acknowledgement for her talent. Her head began to sink as she felt the uselessness and humiliation fill her body.
But all at once—the loudest eruption emerged as the crowd began to make the largest racket. The stadium echoed the sound all around, increasing the amplitude of the noise and commotion. Odessa covered her ears and looked around in fear; surely it was a riot!
But no; it took her several moments to realize that the motions the people were making were ones of applause and immense praise. The sounds, the whistles, the screaming, were all in appreciation for the art and beauty she had brought to the community. It had been so long since anyone had heard such a thing, and it awakened a primal feeling and love for sound that had long been forgotten.
Odessa’s talent received the most praise, for she had chosen something so pure that it could do nothing but touch the hearts and souls of all who heard her play.
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