The Music

THE MUSIC

As the familiar strain of music began to play through the car, Stacey cocked her head to listen to the pulsing beat. She closed her blue-green eyes and the music drew her in, dipping and swirling as the well known notes played before her eyes. Further and further the music took her away, until at last she was back to where it all began...

It had only been a year ago, when she was twenty, but it seemed like it was another, long ago, life time. Back then she had lived for her music, hurrying home to her tiny two roomed apartment each day from her dreary job as a secretary at Norbis Legal Firm, on the corner of Rose Ton Cct and Clydesdale St. She would take every chance she could to write music, listen to it or sing, and she depended on her music to get her through the rough times, like that day, March the 25th. It had been an awful day. Felicity, her boss, had screamed at her for no apparent reason at all, and she had mounds of legal tapes and files to sort out. But as she was riding home on the bus thinking about all the work she had to do, it was then when she first heard it. Her song...

It began with a pulsing drum beat, catching her attention from her depressing thoughts. Pricking her ears, she tucked her shoulder length, honey blond hair back, as she strained to hear the low sound that came from the driver's radio. Soon she was breathlessly caught up in the wild trills of the marvelous music... She couldn't help herself - she had to have this song! Furrows of concentration creased her brow and she intently worked on memorizing each stanza. She didn't usually use her astounding memorization skills for music, she knew it wasn't really fair to the producers if she memorized their songs and wrote them all down instead of buying them, but something about this one... She couldn't wait for it to come out on sheet music - she knew every song that ever came out, and this song had only just been released.
When the music ended, it was an absolute let down. Somehow she could just forget all her troubles with this one tune. Playing it over and over in her mind, she waited impatiently for the bus to stop at her block. Housing Department 16, on the rather unscrupulous side of Sydney. Thudding up the creaking and worn stairs, she hurriedly stopped at her door, 4B. Fumbling with her key, she shoved it in and turned, praying that the lock wouldn't jam up this time. Much to her intense relief she heard the click of the door lock, and she shoved open the sticky door that complained loudly as she slammed it closed behind her.
Quickly dumping her scuffed work bag and threadbare coat by the door, she ran over to the worn, but spotless old wooden desk that she used both for writing on and for eating. Scratches and stains covered the desktop, portraying how it had been well loved long before Stacey got it. Rummaging around in the top drawer, Stacey soon covered the aged space with sheets and sheets of blank, lined music paper. As she sharpened her pencil, she ran the first few notes of the drum beat through her mind. Carefully, she started. Soon she had pages of music in front of her, as she worked feverishly in to the night, only stopping once to switch on the dim lamp on her desk, and absolutely forgetting to eat, drink, and sleep.

Much, much later on, she finally put down her pencil with a sigh of satisfaction. Rubbing her aching wrist absentmindedly, she checked her work. Piano, drums, guitar, and other instruments - yes, it was all there. She finally had her song. Excitedly, she gathered up the sheets, and gracefully stood up. She than walked softly over to her most prized possession, an electric piano that sat proudly on a black steel stand. She gently ran her slim, tapering fingers over the knobs and buttons, making sure that every speck of dust and dirt was wiped off. The ivory colored keys, contrasting with the jet black sharps, gleamed under the dim yellow light. As she gently sounded each key in a low, rippling scale, she played with a touch that was akin to a caress. Carefully setting up the music she had so painstakingly written out, she tapped knobs, and pushed buttons - recording each note of the different instruments in to the key board. All except the piano.
Even though it was well past midnight, she couldn't resist just one run through of her song. Setting off her miniature orchestra, she soon was absorbed in rippling through the piece. The low notes filled the tiny apartment, swelling to such a crescendo that the rooms seemed to be bursting at the seems. Then, unable to fill the minute town house any more, it slipped through her open window, and tumbled down to the ears of a lone, unsuspecting stranger, that was hurriedly passing by.

..~*~..

Michael shoved his hands deep into his navy felt coat, as he strode along under the dim yellow street lights. 'The sooner I get home the better!' He thought grumpily. Evening after evening he searched the streets looking for the right person. He visited every club he could, but he still hadn't found the last person he needed to play his music. Stanzas of music rippled through his mind, as he slouched along - when would he be able to play it for everyone? A drum beat started up, and Michael waited for the song to play through his head, but as it started, he stopped in shock. This tune wasn't like all the others he heard. It sounded so real, almost as if someone was playing it....
Cocking his head, he listened carefully. Someone was playing! Michael listened, fascinated, as the music played on. Realization dawned, and he felt like he had been zapped. This was it! He had found his musician! Racing up to the building were he could hear it coming from, he thundered up the stairs. When he got to the third level, he halted abruptly. Treading softly, he listened carefully for the muted notes. Soon he heard the enticing sounds, and he eagerly traced them to room 4B. Standing in front of the worn door, Michael hesitated - should he knock?

..~*~..

Stacey glanced up swiftly, as a soft knocking could be heard. 'Who on earth could that be at this time of the night?' She thought, a puzzled frown wrinkling her creamy forehead. Cautiously, she crossed over to the front door, and peeped through the spy hole. Standing was a handsome young man, twenty-five or so, not much older than her. Stacey frowned, he didn't look like he was drunk or stoned, but what if.... As she was trying to decide whether of not she should open the door, the man turned and started to walk away. Somehow, it was his dejected attitude that made her decided.
Swiftly she wrenched the door open. Jumping at the sound, the man spun around, his brown eyes gleaming. Stacey stared at the stranger. 'What did you want?' She finally asked softly. 'Well,' Michael hesitated, and plunged in. 'My name's Michael Wittikar, and I was wondering who was playing the music in your apartment.'
'I was.' Answered Stacey, puzzled at his strange question. But then a sudden thought struck her - she had heard about him! 'I've heard of you! You're that famous new composer that's looking for orchestra members!' She stammered, 'Please, come in!' Michael shrugged, he might as well...

..~*~..

Stacey jumped, snapping out of her daydream as the car stopped. Smiling at the handsome man sitting besides her, she stepped out of the car and walked up the steps to the Sydney Opera House. Tonight Michael and Stacey Wittikar were playing for the Prime Minister...