No Other But You
I own no one except Vera and those associated with her. Don't complain if they sound familiar. I, Annaiel, am too damn dirt poor to be sued.
Ch.1
Notes sweetly reverberated through the room as I practiced my new favorite piece. Sure, there were some note patterns that made me want to kill whoever wrote this in the beginning, but I got it eventually. I always did.
Here, alone, in the silence of my own home, I could do whatever I wanted musically. Fuck my work. It can wait. So, I packed away my traditional wood cello and pulled out the Godsend, otherwise known as my electric. It looked like someone had hacked out most of a 'real' cello and shoved metal haphazardly. With my Baby, I could pump out rock like a guitarist, but cooler. Dir en Grey, Metallica, Slipknot, Mnemnic, nothing was impossible.
With my instrument, everything that bugged me, pissed me off, or just made me plain irritable melted away. Nothing mattered. Nothing could shake me. Nothing can hurt me. I was invincible, singular and irreplaceable in that it was my touch making those notes.
I am not a cellist by trade. I wish I was. To be free like that to do what I pleased with my life would be the sweetest thing. But NO. I work in my family's company, a multi-national production and manufacture. As CEO of Marketing, and damn near all else, I rarely have this time to myself to let go and drop the cold-bitch mask for a moment or two.
KATHUNK-CLASH-SNAP
Well, my good feeling is pretty thoroughly gone. I get up and walk to there I hear the noise came from, but someone else has gotten there first.
Ok, this was by request, so we'll see where it goes. It's going to be similar to PTFP, but different, since it's a different life, same bad language, different man. Don't complain that I'm a one-sided writer. I know that. The plot bunnies are the same too, 'cept there's not going to be any visitors this time… or will there?