Chap 1: bad news on the door step
"... The democracy is wavering to a breaking point with in the last month after the appointment of the new Prime Minister, Prime Minister Leverrier. There is a new order of lock down throughout all of Great Britain. This news is being broadcast publicly, throughout the entire country..."
The white haired teen sighed, put down the glass he had been drying and turned to the TV;
"I repeat this is a country wide lock down; the absolute ban of music,"
What?!?! He was glad he had put the glass down or else he would have dropped it.
"...law enforcement squads will be confiscating all possessions of musical ability, instruments and stereos etc... from homes, schools and industries, over all of this next week. We urge you not to resist-"
The noise was cut off as the TV wet blank. Allen felt sick as he put the remote down, the whole world seemed to stop. Allen Walker was 16 years old and lived in a small house on his own in a cute little suburb, still in high school; he was a scholarship music student, and his most prized possession was his shiny, black Grande Piano, which was currently hiding in his lounge room. (His house was so small that it took up most of the room and blocked the entrance from the dining/kitchen area.)
He ran to the front door and stuck his head outside. The sun was beginning to set, but in the dying light and silence of the afternoon, he could see others peeking out windows, or much the same as himself, standing worried in their front gardens.
No music? How can some one enforce a music ban?
Then he heard them; the sirens.
His breath caught and his heart beat faster. He closed, locked and bolted the front door. Trying to remain remotely calm; he ran to his piano, turning off lights as he went. In front of his treasure he bounced from foot to foot in panic.
What to do what to do what to do?
The good thing about his small houses was that it was a split level, so there was room beneath his floor boards. The problem was getting the Grande Piano down there. He knew he still had time as the government would be searching every home thoroughly, and trucks were always slow. He felt horrible for not worrying about other people who were now currently losing the items, for the sake of some extra time for him to hide his.
He ran to the kitchen and grabbed his tool box. Kneeling down, as he went under his baby, he whispered; "I'm so sorry."
Then wiping away a tear, he started to unscrew the bolts holding the instrument together. It took a lot of effort, especially for a vertically challenged boy of his age, but he was racing against time and eventually he got the top off of the legs. Flipping up the rug, he wrenched out some floor boards wrapped the shiny legs up in a cloth and stowed them a way.
BANG BANG BANG! "Open up! Under the law of the new Prime Minister, we have the right to arrest you if you resist!"
Allen was panicking now. They were next door. He looked behind him at his broken stool and legless piano. He wrapped the pieces of piano seat up and pushed them beneath the floor boards. His hands were shaking and he pounded the floor boards back into place, covering the hole with a rug.
BANG BANG BANG!
It was his door. They were here!
"OPEN UP!"
He spun around. He still had a great big fucking piano to hide. He ran his trembling hands through his hair; "I-" tries again, louder;
"I'M COMING! GIVE ME A MINUTE!"
"Please do not resist! We have the right to arrest you!" a foreboding voice yelled from outside the locked door, as they began banging again.
Out on the street the teen could hear people yelling and pleading. The music was going.
He ran towards the back of the house, where the linen cupboards resided. He grabbed a white fluffy towel, a maroon tablecloth and then he pulled out all four of the wooden shelves causing piles of linen to fall. Slamming the door closed he ran back to the lounge room where the police were still trying to bang the door down;
"If you don't open in 10 seconds we shall proceed to knock the door down!"
"Yeah hang on minute!" Allen yelled back. As gently as he could he laid the shelves down on top of his piano, making a square top. Throwing the table cloth over it; he now had a coffee table in the middle of his floor. A really big coffee table.
Back in the kitchen, he had ripped off his shirt and thrown his head in the sink, wetting all his hair, while he wrapped his waste in a towel, covering his shorts.
He took a deep breath and tried to look calm as he opened the door.
"Hello there officer, what can I do you for?" he strained, smiling politely, with water dripping down his face.
"We're here to search this residence for music transmitters of any form, by strict order of the Prime Minister. You should watch the news."
"Sorry I was in the show-" he was cut off as the officers stormed in, obviously sick of the chit chat. There were a lot of them but Allen couldn't help but notice that one of the officers had wet cheeks, and he looked down.
He heard them storming all through his house.
Searching. Searching. Searching.
His heart skipped a beat every time they creaked they made the floor boards creak passed his 'coffee table.'
Less than 10 minutes later he squished himself up against the wall as they stormed out, carrying quite a few of his possessions. His radio, stereo, mP3 player, boxes of CDs and DVDs, his golden harmonica which he had always kept on his bedside. A present given to him by his foster father; Timpcanpy. They were all gone.
And once the house was silent, with out bothering to even close the front door. Allen Walker slid down the wall and cried.
The music was gone.
End chap 1
A/N I'm writing a lot of different fanfics at the moment, even if theyre not all out in the world wide web yet. And I'm sorry to those who want me to update my other ones when instead I started a new one. I am sorry but this is one of those stories that come to you and you're like oh my god! I must write that ASAP! And yeah so I did. This came to me at work when I was listening to the song; "American Pie" by Don McLean. And that pretty self explanatory.
Please review!