"Yo, and….. Oh, whatever. I don't care." Jonah collapsed back onto his cup chair, giving up on the gangster act. His father looked at him, concerned. Jonah didn't know whether the concern was for Jonah as a person, or for the fact that if Jonah's gagsta impression died, their finances died with it. Probably the second.
Jonah sighed. He didn't want to act all tough any more. He wanted to be, dare he say it, normal. He didn't want to be " The Jonah Wizard". He wanted to be Jonah. Just Jonah.
" I don't want to do this anymore dad" Jonah said. His dad's face lost whatever optimism it had previously held. No gangster act? What treason was this?
Jonah got up and walked to the piano. He started playing a piece that Mozart had written, one that Jonah had always loved. He switched mid- note, to one of the songs from Faust. He sung the bass part, and just left the mezzo soprano to the piano. He switched again to a song by Lady Gaga, that he had somehow managed to get stuck in his head. His mind went to every song, except his gangsta songs.
Jonah's dad stormed out of the room, clearly upset about this rebellion. Curious. Most parents encourage their children to listen to less rap, whereas Jonah's dad was encouraging him to listen to more. Funny.
Jonah stood up and went over to his guitar. Not his electric. His acoustic. He started to play a slow, sad, Spanish melody, that would bring any hardened criminal to tears.
Jonah went over and picked up the violin. He was about to start playing it, when he heard footsteps outside his door. He didn't want to listen to his dad ranting about how Jonah would destroy their income if he did this. So he slipped over to the door on the opposite side of the room, and exited quickly. The door led outside. Jonah ran to the woods, which was just parallel to the door.
The woods was his escape. It was his place to go when he didn't want to be part of the gangster world. This didn't happen very often, but Jonah had a strange feeling that the aversion to being a gangster would stay this time. Indefinitely.
He walked down a path, and turned several times. He knew these woods like the back of his hand. To anyone else it was a labyrinth, but Jonah had figured it out. He knew where to turn to get to the creek, and where to go to find the hunting platform. If anyone else tried to follow him, they would get lost.
He found himself in the main clearing, which, he had figured out, was at the heart of the woods. He realized he still had his violin. He raised it to his chin, and played a low, mourning melody. He was sucked into the music.
All of the sudden he heard a rustle behind him. An unnatural rustle. How did they find him? Jonah turned around, and was astonished by what he saw.