Gloom

Gosalyn stepped up the stairs, listening as the sound of the 1820s got gradually louder.

She moved past her own door and knocked on Raya's door.
"Yes?"
Gosalyn opened the door. Raya was sitting at her desk writing in an exercise book. Her angelic face was framed by black coiled-up hair and today her dress was floral blue. Like a miniature version of their mother there was no question that she was pretty enough to turn a boy's head.

"How're you going up here, Raya?" Gosalyn nodded at the player. "Bit of different music for a change?"
"It's Ludwing Beethoven."
"Yes. His piano Sonata Number 32 Opus 111 in C Minor if I am not mistaken." Gosalyn snickered at Raya's look of surprise that her sister would have this shard of excess information. "Oh, you'd be surprised at some of the things your older sister knows, kiddo. Me and Honk stand hereto undefeated in a Trivia contest."

Raya tapped her beak in thought. "You used to play the piano. When I was very little. You wanted to be a musician. Why did you stop?"
"Three words: Saxophone."
"That's one word."
"I was just surprised because I'd have expected you to be listening to Aquaduck." Gosalyn changed the subject back to the reason she'd interrupted her sister. "This is rather dark and uh ..." Gosalyn searched for another word to describe it and her impression of Beethoven in general. "Intense."
"This is Simon's music."
Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. "My statement remains standing."

"He said it's peaceful and helps him think so he shared it with me." Raya explained.
Gosalyn had to give this Simon boy some credit. This was a good gambit. "Does it give you peace?"
"Yeah, kinda. It makes me feel like I don't have to have my head full so much. What do you think of it?"
"Beethoven?" Gosalyn nodded in mild acceptance. "The way those notes go flying off the page everywhere is pretty cool." She shrugged. "But Franciscus Quack is cool too and so is Creedence Clearwater Revival. There's a time and a place for every kind of music."
"Is Creedence one of your favourites?"
"That's not the point." Gosalyn dismissed the question. "I'm saying it's a rainbow of sound out there, waiting for you to listen to it. It's all out there, kiddo."

"Some of it has bad language."
Gosalyn felt her world come crashing down. "What?" She just managed to stop herself from saying 'so what if the rest of it's good?' Which would start another round of World War Three ... a battle which she would undoubtedly lose.
"Dad said." Raya disapproved and crossed her arms. "There aren't any words in Simon's music. I asked before I let him share it with me."
"... 'Let' him?" Gosalyn repeated in dismay. "Let! Hear yourself, Raya! Who do you think you are?" Gosalyn was outraged. "Here you are complaining that people haven't been nice to Ian. Well, stop and ask yourself how you're treating Simon! If someone else does something nice for you, what do you say, huh? Why does Simon deserve any less?"
Raya looked away from Gosalyn and down at her writing book. "He doesn't." She answered weakly.
Gosalyn's glimmer of triumph disappeared an instant later as she realised her little sister's bubble had popped again.

"Nobody's perfect, Raya." Gosalyn reassured her. "It's not just you who has to learn this stuff, you know?" Gosalyn leant in close to Raya. "I'll include myself in this one; I'm a prime example. Okay?"
Raya nodded tearily. "Okay."
"Both of us. You and me. We're being all doom and gloom and it's really got to stop. It's not healthy for you, not healthy for me; and in the end we're hurting the people we care about."
"But I'm-."
"That's not good enough, Raya. I'm sorry. 'But' we're both dealing with a lot. Don't sweat the small stuff, Raya. That's Beethoven's biggest lesson. We can't let it get in the way of our lives; we've got to deal with it and move on."
"Beethoven's music isn't saying anything."
"Yes, it is. Listen to it."
Raya turned her head to the speakers. They listened for a minute or so. Gosalyn noticed a loose corner of blanket and folded it back into the bundle.

"No, he's not saying anything." Raya stated with a frown.
"Oh, Raya." Gosalyn sighed, wondering why her sister was such a hard shell all the time. She was a typical porcelain doll. Raya was one of those 'try to repose her and you could break something' dolls.
"No, I'm not being difficult!" Raya was obviously reading Gosalyn's aura and was getting quite testy. "You're not telling me all the facts, Gosalyn!"
"What are you hearing, Raya?"
"Music."
"What do you think of the music?"
"It's nice."
"Is it good music?"
"Yeah." Raya shrugged. "Why are you making such a big deal about Beethoven, Gosalyn?"
"Coz, you know ..." Gosalyn felt tears spring into her eyes again, "Beethoven never once let things that happened to him stop him doing some really great stuff. And I know that song you're listening to right there is one he wrote ... after he went deaf."
Raya stared at her player in all new appreciation. "Wow."

"You're a Mallard, Ray. So am I. We come from a long line of heroes. We've got to toughen up and not let it beat us. So!" Gosalyn stated determinedly. "I'm going to start acting like a Mallard again, and I hope you follow my lead. I'm beat. So what? I'm going to get right back up and start fighting again. If Beethoven did it, then there's no reason in the world that I can't. And there is not a single valid reason that you can't either, little miss." Gosalyn grabbed the door handle. "It might be really nice for your Simon to hear a 'thank you' for being as thoughtful as to share something so nice with you. You can tell him that the next time you meet up."
"Yes. Definitely." Raya nodded emphatically.

Gosalyn left Raya's room and went next door back to her own room. She rebundled the blankets around her egg and put it on the bed. Then she turned her own player on and grabbed her pillow. She lay back on her bed, putting the pillow over her head. 'D'oh, boy, if that cloud of thick gloom of hers doesn't just suck the life right out of you.'

"Deep down Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play the guitar just like a ringing a bell."

There was a small knocking on the door.
"Gosalyn's not in right now, if you care to leave a message, I'll get back to you." She heard the door open.
"What are you listening to, Gosalyn?"
"Chuck Berry."

"He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track
Oh, the engineers would see him sitting in the shade
Strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made
People passing by they would stop and say
Oh my that little country boy could play."

"What's that mean, Gosalyn?" Raya asked during the chorus.
"It's an epitomizing statement of egalitarianism." Gosalyn answered through the pillow.

"His mother told him 'Someday you will be a man,
And you will be the leader of a big old band.
Many people coming from miles around
To hear you play your music when the sun go down
Maybe someday your name will be in lights
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.' "

"Go go
Go Johnny go
Go go go Johnny go ..."

"What's 'e-gal-itarianism' mean, Q?"
Gosalyn sat up and put her pillow back on the bed. "It means 'It doesn't matter who you are, it matters what you're good for'. There are people out there ... and ... they're not as good as what they think they are. And maybe, someday, someone's going to knock them right back down into reality with something like a big flashing neon sign, saying 'I deserve every bit of recognition and success that I have because I am actually, in reality, very good at what I do'." She lay back down on her pillow. "I am good at what I do." She repeated to herself.

"Why not today? Why only 'someday'?"
"Raya, if you don't mind." Gosalyn looked at her little sister and how she could look like their mother so much yet be just as demanding and obtuse as their father. "I just got out of my dinghy and I haven't got my land legs back yet, let alone got myself another boat. Yeah, I'll get back up, give me time. I've got to think of something first. Maybe not today, but someday. And don't you worry. It's gonna be soon."
"You can't keep a good duck down?"
"Exactly."

Gosalyn got up grabbing up her notepad from her desk. "Dear Grizlykoff, where's my thirty pieces of silver?" She sat back down on her bed. I know; I'll make this sound like he wrote it himself." She grinned. "This is the game he wants to play?" She laughed in satisfaction, seeing the oh-so-perfect director unable to find fault with this letter that was soon to be in his In Tray. "So, let's play." She reached for her music player and switched play lists.
"Ugh, that sounds very different." Raya grunted almost immediately as the crash of drums and the multitude of guitars poured out of the speakers.
"Oh, yes, that was rock and roll. This is hard rock."
"I like Simon's music better."
"You mean classical music." Gosalyn categorised. "Like I said, there's a time and a place for every kind of music and right now I need hard rock."
"Well, you seem to be a lot happier now anyway, so I'll leave you alone." Raya remarked and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
"Tha-anks." Gosalyn called out after her sister. "Dear Director, I wish - no I would like - to draw your attention ... Yeah that's good." She laughed. "Oh, this is gonna be re-eal good. This'll get to him like ... itching powder. He'll definitely pay up after reading this little bureaucratic number."

Gosalyn finished chiseling her temper and frustrations into S.H.U.S.H. terminology and went downstairs with her notepad. Her triumph at hand.

"Hello, dear, how are you today?" Her mother called from the kitchen.
"Afternoon, mum." Gosalyn detoured into the kitchen and hugged her mum single-handedly. "Doing better. Writing this letter really helped. I'm going to portal over to the tower and type it up so I can send it."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, dear?"
"It can't do any damage and I want my paycheque," Gosalyn argued, "he has no right to sit on it like this; I did the work."
"Yes, that's very true. I just meant: are you not having afternoon tea with us?"
"Oh ... yeah." Gosalyn realised, glancing at the time on the microwave. "Sure, 'I'll do this letter thing tomorrow. It's long past the post today anyway."
"Oh, that's wonderful to hear dear." Her mother offered her a tray of carrot sticks, gumples, cucumber and celery.
"I'll just put this away." Gosalyn stashed her notepad safely in the mail tray.
"You'd better hurry and put it on the table for everyone. Those gumples are quite fresh, dear." Morgana helped and relieved Gosalyn of her egg for the moment.