Chapter Two
Stan!
Well, he is a seventeen year old boy living with his parents and going to High school. He was not exposed to the cruelties of a hustle. Where assassins were sent to kill people of interest or retrieve relics of interest, and, yet again kill its bearer or possessor. He was the Leonardo Da Vinci of his own world- just painting, inventing, and staying celibate for his own good-if the history books were telling the truth.
It didn't occur to him to take music classes at first, since it wasn't a top course in his school. It was introduced some two years ago. He loved to take the risk and now, there was this awkward sensation to delve into the art of the muses.
He couldn't paint in real life, no matter how hard he tried. So the other option was music."… My replacement" or "…the nerd's available Picasso-essential"= a guide to surreal authentic painting… he will often mutter to himself as a kind of mantra to console himself.
As he walked home, he mused over what Mr. Gold said about the Lute… most of which he had researched earlier, enabling him to answer the golden question which earned him new secret admirers. He was quite lucky today, though…he couldn't imagine himself being ignorant over a subject which had Greek mythical and historical importance.
Mr. Gold was a master quiz poser…always compacting his questions in a bid to divert attention to a realm of a bigger picture in a portrait. The thought of this in Stan's head induced him to smirk with pride at his stamina to withstand and extrapolate Mr. Gold's complex "numbers" (his questions, in allusion to the musical jargons). He even dared to consider himself a worthy opponent to Mr. Gold, in the handling and dissemination of the echelons of his profession.
He passed through the cluster of trees by the unofficial hot season bath and "get together" pond called "banker"….he took a moment to stand by it to savor its muddy smell, which in an unusual way soothes his senses. He listened to the "chirp, chirp" sounds of the birds in the trees, and jerked at the rustle of the leaves nearby caused by the movement of some four legged forest-ridded animal, trekking from place to place.
On a normal day he would throw a pebble on the pond to create a ripple effect, then count the number of ripples the pebble had caused…he believed it improved his cognitive expansion span, giving him a highly envied retentive memory capability. But today was no normal day for him… he elected just to watch the peaceful expanse the water created over the pond…the translucent feature of the water exposing fish life swimming zig zagingly in no specific order. He will later recall this phenomenon to help him put his thoughts together and consider the otherwise colliding aspects of science and religiosity concerning creation and the existence of diverse species on earth. He took three ritualistic deep breaths and returned to his journey back home…he had a lot to do. He had a new interest… a new adventure triggered by the day's events… and just like his little creations-the ripples, he realized life was about to take a new turn for him…a new tad of sounds began to play in his head… and questions arose….
What happened to the Lute?
Do they really allow one to summon a meeting with a lost one at a request…?
How do I become a Lute player…?
And that was how he was reborn…..the Lute Player…..