Showing posts with label #author #writing #Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #author #writing #Romance. Show all posts

Monday, May 2, 2016

The Artists - Those with Sight

The concept of the artists is the first stage of reconciling the inequality of the world as far as creation is concerned.  We live in a society that in some instances value art for the wrong reasons.  The human spirit is a treasure trove of beauty and beautiful instances.  However we as a species sometimes condemn creation and invalidate it based on conventions that should be explored because of how rich they make the content that is given. Art is popularity not art. Many of the leading societal structures in the world have a very rudimentary appreciation for art as it stands and for the sake of. It gets dolled off as frivolous and unnecessary.  And yet most of our living world as it stands and is imagined is a product of an artistic mind. Without art nothing of what we have would exist.  From household appliances to all of our technological advances. We would be bereft of homes, cars, buildings. In the beginning there was art.  Creation and the desire to create drawn on cave walls is the beginning of our gradual evolution into communication. Without art we are without.

So I present the first selection. Those with sight.


Sunday, May 1, 2016

Life Goes On

All over the world awakenings are happening.  Each day an ordinary person is waking up with new extraordinary talents.  And those who already had these talents are finding themselves much much stronger. One day the world will know it's history and this time shall be known as the shift.  The brief period of time where humanity succumbed to vanity, pride, lust, envy, anger, sloth and greed to become their own gods.  The loss of life was monumental.  The true powers of the universe stood by and let it happen.  In most situations the problem will eventually weed itself out and this time was no different than the many, many times before.

But each time humanity returns more refined.  They adapt to change faster.  They understand the theories in less time.  And they build their monuments to themselves higher and higher.  This wasn't the first time they declared themselves gods. However it might be the last time.

In the preparation for the shift a select few have been chosen.  Of course in every story such as this, there are those who have actually been given divinity. They were chosen not because of what they were but because of who they could become.  Potential is not a dirty word, it is a compliment. The bottom line is, when the universe calls on one to become bigger.  The last thing one can do is deny the request. 

The world must begin again and it has been determined that when the time comes only those born of the 9 matched pairs will remain.  All else shall perish, by decree of the seven deadly sins.  They will fall for an idea or person, for power and glory.  Only the children of the 9 will survive and only they will seed the future to humanity.  Life must go on . . 

Saturday, April 30, 2016

This Scene with Sergei and Clair

Clair walked ahead of him and opened her door. “Thanks for dinner by the way, it was lovely.” She threw over her shoulder.
“Don’t mention it.” She heard float from behind her as he followed her in.
“Drink?” Clair asked as she gestured towards her sofa.
“Yeah, a coffee would be nice.” As he instead seated himself at her baby grand.  Causing Clair to pause and stare for a moment to see what he was doing.  With the delicacy of a surgeon the man lifted the lid and placed his fingers over the keys.  Clair was about to yell at him she realized as he started playing Beethoven’s fifth in A minor.
Fascinated Clair stopped and watched as this handsome man closed his eyes and let his fingers glide over her keys.
“You tune her yourself don’t you?” he said under his breath.
Clair hadn’t realized that she had moved closer until she heard his voice which startled her out of her stunned fascination with his playing.
“Yes, I do.”
He nodded. “You like your tones a hair sharper than a tuner would leave it.”
Clair felt the tug in her heart, and terrified more than fascinated, she made her way swiftly into the kitchen and started the process of brewing coffee.
Clair realized that her hands were shaking as she placed the filter into the machine.  The sounds of his playing floating clearly into the kitchen.  His technique was nearly flawless, his form, the pressure of his fingers and the invisible nuances of playing an instrument as complex as the piano all in line with the intent and purpose of the piece.  Clair took a deep breath as the sounds of one of her favorite works moved over her ears and assailed her heart and soul.
It had been like that when Johnny would sing to her.  His voice would incite feelings of wonder, awe and joy.  But his voice wasn’t the instrument of her heart, not like the piano.  Listening to someone pay homage to her liege as Sergei was, raised her level of involvement to about three times of where it was when Johnny would sing to her.
‘Rapture as a noun meaning elation.  Elation as a noun meaning happiness, euphoria, glee, intoxication, jubilation which leads back to—‘
Clair’s eyes popped open as she realized what she was doing.
Shaking even harder she continued preparing the coffee.
When the task was done she walked into the living room and sat on her sofa and listened to him play, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.  She got to watch the play of his back muscles as he moved.  He sat ramrod straight. Edwina would love his form, she thought passively.  He kept his wrists firm and his fingers loose.  And he was playing as if he could see the music in his head.  Eyes closed.  Clair did that sometimes, but that was because of the sheer ecstasy she received from playing.  Biting her fingernails, Clair watched as he continued.  Then without thinking she got up and sat next to him on her bench.  There was barely enough room for her and she completed his melodic line with the under pairing for the piece.  Edwina used to do this for her all the time when she was trying to find her way through a piece.  It was akin to what women did to under lead a man while teaching ballroom dance.

Sergei’s eyes opened and he looked over at Clair as she played.  Her eyes were on the keys.  The look on her face as she played made his breath catch.  It was sublime, the pleasure she received from this instrument.  It wasn’t the right time or the right place but he couldn’t help what he did next.  He took her chin into his hand and leaned over to kiss her.

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Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Clair Fair

 ‘Rapture.  As a noun meaning delight.’
Clair thought to herself as her fingers flew over the piano keys as if she didn’t guide them. 
‘Delight as a noun meaning enjoyment, ecstasy, enchantment, contentment, joyance, relish, which leads back to rapture.’ 
Since Clair discovered the piano and the joy inherit in this instrument that could whisper and yell, sigh and resonate, she spent her spare time trying to find the word that defined the sublime elation that filled her when she played.  She searched thesauruses, other languages, symbols, whatever she could get her hands on.  But not a single word alone described this feeling of release and bliss that she experienced while she played.  So her mind would string together all of these words to try and express what was being experienced.
‘Bliss, as a noun meaning ecstasy, euphoria, felicity, heaven, paradise, which leads back to rapture.’
She was playing Mozart’s piano concerto no. 20 in D minor.  It was one of her favorites to practice on at home and loosened her up when she was ready to compose her own works.  No. 20 in D minor was special to her.  This one had been the culmination piece of her first full concert at the age of 15 for a local arts festival.
After her Aunt Mary introduced Clair to the piano it had been the passion of her existence.  She had played throughout middle school with a mix of lessons with her Aunt Mary and whoever was available.  When she had entered high school, Clair had applied for a work-study program that allowed her to spend fewer hours at school and more time practicing her instrument.  Her dedication had been noticed by several of the local musicians as Aunt Mary had made it her job to find teachers that could operate at the level that Clair had reached and could carry her beyond.
That had been when she had met Edwina Powell.  Edwina was a large maternal woman with dubious ethnicity.  She was dark in coloring with her black hair and dark brown eyes.  But it was her tan skin tone that made it very hard to place her into any particular race. Edwina had been teaching pianoforte for 15 years in the small high school in Taos New Mexico.  It wasn’t until you went to her home for private lessons did you see the fruits of a 20 year long professional classical pianist career.  She had played everywhere, Carnegie Hall, the Kennedy Center, Sydney, Paris, Japan.  Her walls were lined with accolades and world championships.
The day Clair had met Edwina had changed the course of her life.  Before that day, Clair had believed that she would not be able to become a professional artist.  She was told by school counselors and most other adults that choosing to become a professional artist was foolish and would not support her well. Everyone agreed with exception of her Aunt Mary and her mother who had both encouraged Clair to follow her passion and to ignore the call of material wealth in lieu of happiness. Still Clair had been undecided until she had her first meeting with Edwina Powell.
The first meeting had been at Clair’s home with her mother and aunt.  Ms. Powell had walked in like a ruling queen.  Her stature had been perfect, her clothing, hair and makeup immaculate. She had asked for Aunt Mary to leave so that she and Clair could speak privately.
The woman had instructed Clair to sit at her piano and then circled her seemingly looking for deficiencies.
“Clair.” She stated clearly in a Spanish accented, deep feminine voice. “That is not your full name.”
The woman waited a moment or two and then continued. “Clair is short for something, what is your full name, as it is written on your birth certificate.”
Clair had hesitated, hating what she was about to say out loud. “It’s” she paused taking a long labored breath. “Clairvoyance”, she sighed, “Clairvoyance Olivia Warren.”
The woman only stared pointedly at Clair, “This shame’s you.” She stated. “It is empowerment, a characteristic that is unique only to you.  You should embrace this name of yours.”
Moving to stand next to Clair she stared pointedly at the instrument before them both. “Does this shame you as well?”
Clair turned to her quickly denial in her heart. “No, there’s nothing embarrassing about a piano, or playing it.”
The woman sat next to Clair at the bench. “What is this instrument to you?”
Clair thought about it long and hard staring at the instrument in question.  Softly she ran her fingers over a few keys and the day her Aunt Mary introduced her to it flashed starkly in her mind.  Her entire body was filled with the euphoria that had started that day.  Her Aunt’s words ringing in her ears, ‘this does not care what color you are, it only knows music, it only knows joy.’ With that fresh in her mind, Clair had answered Ms. Powell with the only word that had summed it all up for her.
“Freedom.”

Ms. Powell had nodded. “You’ll do Clairvoyance.”

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