Singing my heart out

Story by lantheorc on SoFurry

, , , , , , ,

#27 of Writing Prompts

This is my take for a writing prompt proposed on the Writing Corner about a month ago. Life kept me busy, so it's only now that I can upload it. This time the prompt was "It isn't home, but what choice do I have?"

Comments and impressions are all welcome. With that out of the way, enjoy :D


I took a deep breath. The influx of air in my lungs helped to assuage my nerves. Behind me, I could hear the restless beating of my tail on my pants, the quiet murmurs of the crowd waiting behind the door. I pushed the air out with a controlled huff, my fingers twitching with anticipation while a new bout of nausea hit me in full force. I closed my eyes, blocking out the tired and exasperated look of the dwarf manager as she waited for me, her foot marking an hurried rhythm. I was sure that she had expected something bigger, better and more grandiose when she hired a bard and any other day, she would have found it. But, as much as I hated to admit it, I had never played for this many people and just the thought of all those eyes settled on me, judging my very action, disappointment clear in their faces, made my fingers go numb. That's how I had ended crouching on the floor, my hands tracing soothing circles over my upset stomach. I growled softly to myself, shaking the negative thoughts out of my head. There was no time to be nervous, I reminded myself, I had too much riding on this one to let myself fail. I jumped to my feet; teeth clenched to fight the dizzy spell that assaulted me soon after. A startled yelp came from the dwarf, a frown settling in her brow, but I didn't matter, my mind was set. With a new found resolve I swore that I wouldn't back down now. No, I would do it.

I took another breath. One of my hands diving into my fiery orange forest I called mane; the unruly hair parted without protest and let my fingers reach their target. Soothing waves erupted with every soft caress if my fingers on my scalp, pushing the vice grip of my nerves to the back of my mind. Memories of a bittersweet song invaded me; the gentle and bony hands of an older gnoll danced in the front of my mind's eye. The images shifted suddenly as regret surfaced in my heart, showing her strained smile when I told her I was leaving my home. The cries of my siblings rang in my ears, clear and mournful, as I walked away from all I had known. The numbing sadness that had clung to me for days started to surface again, the memories of my departure still fresh in my mind, but an impatient cough saved me from that emotional marathon. Hard gray eyes were set on me, not with joy or curiosity, but with doubt, the hint of regret appearing in her pale face.

I let out a soft laugh, giving the dwarf the easy going smile I had spent so long practicing. With one last stretch, I crossed the room towards brown case I had left on the corner. The case's leather felt good on my fingers. Rough and familiar; there was no doubt about its gnollish make. Gently, I laid the container on the ground, like one would do a cub. A click echoed in the room the moment I released the silver clasps that held the case close, a faint tingling crossing my fingers, a clear sign that the magic of the clasp was still working. The protective layer parted on its own to reveal my most prized possession. A cream colored guitar that shone under the amber light provided by the incrusted stones on the walls. A smile made its way to my muzzle while I picked up the instrument, its weight pushing down any lingering doubts.

A quick flourish of my hand brought forth my first notes of the night. Irreverent. Selfish. They were a disorganized jumble that brought shame upon the strings. A grunt of displeasure came out of my throat; my teacher would kill me if I ever set foot with my guitar like this. My fingers hurried to correct the situation, little by little reuniting with my old friend: Harmony. Satisfied, I shoot the manager a conspiratorial wink that was answered with a quick dismissal from her hand. With one polite bow to the dwarf I left the room, keeping my guitar close to my heart where it belonged.

A green kobold greeted me on the other side, piercing black eyes putting an end to any comment I may make. His high pitched voice ordered me to follow him, his tail hitting the floor like a whip to drive the point home. The kobold led me down through darkened hallways, his small frame having no trouble with the narrow corridors. The murmurs of the crowd grew in intensity while I hurried behind the kobold, the whole scene almost making me feel like an adventurer in the search of treasure.

One last turn brought us behind a dark blue curtain, the heavy fabric doing nothing to hide the deafening cheers of the crowd. On the stage, barely half a dozen of meter from me, a graceful pale elf strung the last notes of a ballad; her voice, melodic and sharp, was beautiful and enchanting, both attributes that any good bard would kill to have. A whine escaped my throat, thankfully hidden by the noise of the crow. I t would be a hard act to follow. The elf turned my way, a coy smile of her lips and her eyes bursting with life. It was all that needed to be said between the two of us. With one last bow and a blown kiss, the elf strutted out of the stage, her purple gown trailing behind her; a human dressed in a black and white dress took her place, riling up the audience for the next show. I never heard what she said, my mind tuning out the world as I waited for the kobold's signal. Time seemed to blend together, stretching to unfathomable ends before the kobold send me into the stage with a pat and a hit from his tail.

The bright lights of the stage blinded me for a few seconds, but even so I kept walking; a charming smile always on my face. Once I was sure I had reached the center of the stage I gave the audience a courteous bow, holding it just long enough to recover my sight. I almost regretted that decision. Dozens of patrons, form old to young had trained all their gazes on me, years of reading faces telling me the only thing I needed to know. They were not impressed. A rueful smile forced its way to my face, my throat drying in record time. A part of me wanted to run and hide, the pressure of the stage heavier than any I felt before. It was oppressive and insidious, infiltrating into my muscle and freezing them in place.

It took all of my strength to play the first notes of the song, the lonely notes fighting for the attention of the crowd. A couple of timid chords followed them, the strings feeling like stone under my fingers. But, the moment my voice rose up for the chorus and intoned the first plea of the song, any lethargy and fear was banished. There was only me and the music. The notes and the chords. The rhythm and the emotions. All woven together into a great overpowering flow; one that danced the line between magic and music. A quick look at the audience was enough to tell me they understood. Their eyes, wide and full of wonder, never left the stage. Their bodies leaning forward as far as they could without falling. Their drinks all but forgotten on the tables as they listened with almost religious reverence. And so the song went, narrating the tragedy of the star crossed lovers, who were forced to part from their home, only to meet their end in a foreign land. Lost. Desperate. The last verse spoke of the lovers' promise to reunite again after death.

With the song ending, the trance that had taken a hold of me was fading as well. I could feel the burning of my muscles, the roughness in my throat, the difficulty in my breathing, The pain in my fingers as I played the last notes of the song. A heavy silence hung in the air, the faint echoes of my guitar spreading across the room. Then, came the first clap, slow and measured. A second and third came after in, followed by a fourth and fifth. Soon, cheers, whistles and clapping assaulted my ears. My eyes taking in the overjoyed excitement in the crowd's faces. It was nothing like home, it lacked the warmth and the relaxed joy, but, it was good nevertheless.