The garage was basically a second attic. It was a treasure trove of all sorts of antiques, whether they were old records, posters of famous bands, or just ancient machinery (some of which was broken).
Luna had grown attached to that space. Every day, she went in there and fiddled around with whatever she could find. In the midst of all the junk was a dusty, metal guitar. After some basic cleaning and fine tuning, she got the instrument to produce some notes. The thin strings produced a weak, yet beautiful sound (one that Luna knew she could work with). Luckily, that wasn't all she found.
Digging through some of the cardboard boxes, she also found a box of picks she could use (strumming that guitar stung her fingers faster than peeling open a pickle jar). She also found a method book, complete with a fingering chart and sheet music for various tunes. And stuffed in the back was an amp along with some chords. Perhaps something like that could have breathed life into the tiny sound of those strings. But Luna was hesitant to haul it out there. After all, the others were gonna wonder what all that racket was. She wanted to nail down the instrument before presenting it to them (it was already bad enough they knew where she was).
Within a week, she had a grasp on all the major chords and was able to play some simple tunes from the method book. Each time she picked up the instrument, Luna felt her hands loosen just from playing the first note. Then, with each successive strum, energy surged up her arms before spreading all over her body. She jumped to life, the music soothed her ears, and everything she saw became brighter.
One day, after finishing yet another song in the book, Luna did the unthinkable and rested the guitar on her lap. As she gazed at the full purple surface, she pondered what she was doing.
All her life she had listened to music, whether it was on the radio, on TV, or whatever medium she and her siblings were exposed. How was it that after that, this one concert was what inspired her? Was this really how she wanted to spend her life?
Hearing the powerful chords and vocals that dominated the stadium and feeling the satisfaction of creating her own sound, Luna realized that this was different from those other times. Why though?
As far as she could tell, Luna figured it was little more than a feeling, a joy that didn't require explanation or further introspection. Besides, to pose this question would be like asking Luan why she likes comedy or why Leni loves fashion. Even Luna enjoyed a good laugh or a decent pair of boots, but she didn't devote her life to that type of thing. She supposed it was simply left to the person.
And she loved what she saw (even if the guitar acted as a terrible mirror). She smiled as she picked up the instrument once again.
She strummed a chord, producing a resonant pitch. Soon, she figured, it would be ready for the world. Soon, she would show them what "Luna Loud" meant.
The End
