Disclaimer: Refer to 'Of Mice and Cats'.
I'm terribly repentant that I kept my loyal readers waiting in suspense. Although this would be impolitic to mention, I finished writing this chapter more than a week ago. Because of that, here's an open invitation to hurt me, but this is only possible if you know where I live.

Oh, and thank you for all your beneficial reviews and support. It really helps.

Now on with the story. Je vous présente chapitre deux.

Chapter 2: Midnight Muse
"Deep in the blossom of the gentle night is when I search for the light pick up my pen and start to write."
- Nightwatchers

The email was titled "Viola Clip".

Christine didn't understand why someone would email her about a viola clip. She also didn't even know whom the email was from.

Because she didn't know the sender, Christine hesitated and pondered if she should open the email and read it or should she not. What if the email had a malicious virus that would crash her computer? She had important files on her hard drive that she did not want to lose because of naive curiosity. However, she wasn't in the mood to back up files onto a CD.

But she wanted to know what the email contained. As a child and now as an adult, Christine was always curious; it was one of her well-known traits.

There can always be some kind of code that downloads virus into it, she considered.

She opened up the drawer and rummaged for a certain metallic item that would help her decide.

There it was, lying innocently on the bottom of the drawer. Christine picked it up using her index finger and thumb. She placed the quarter onto her thumb.

"If it's heads, open it. If it's tails ignore it." Christine said out loud to herself.

Flicking her thumb, she tossed the coin into the air. It flipped a couple times like a gymnast in the air as it went up a few inches and came back down. The quarter then hit the desk with a clang and fell to the ground.

Christine got out her seat and kneeled onto the floor. She examined the coin.

It had landed on tails.

Christine picked up the coin and placed back into the drawer. She sat down again and turned back to the computer.

Although it had landed on tails, Christine clicked on the email and opened it.

Heck, I'll just pretend that was heads. It probably won't have a virus in it anyways. Christine logically concluded.

The email hastily loaded. Simple black text in size 11 Veranda against the plain white background. According to the email, the sender's address was from Hotmail with 'silentsolitude' as its username.

Interesting screen name, Christine commented.

Concluding from the email address, she assumed the sender was a person who liked to be alone and was solemn and serious, someone who didn't like jokes and immaturity.

Christine then read the email silently to herself.

Hello Miss Daae,

As you have presumed, I am emailing you about a viola clip. I listened to your piece and am interested in hearing any other recordings you have.

Your most interested admirer,
SilentSolitude

P.S. Reply promptly

After reading the message, Christine couldn't remember anything posting a viola clip. Did she even put one on display for the public? But either way, Christine wouldn't be able to leave a prompt reply since the email was sent a day ago. Disregarding the email for the moment, Christine opened the next email. It was from one of Christine's closest friends, Meghan Giry or as Christine called her, Meg.

Hey C,

We have to meet up sometime soon. Call me or something. Okay? Talk to you later.

-Meg ;)

Christine made a mental note to call Meg sometime soon. She switched back to the Mozilla window and refreshed the page. She decided to go explore the works of talented people and went to the Original Works section of the board. When the page finished loading, the reason how anyone would be able to listen to Christine playing the viola was as clear as the dark blue sky outside in the atmosphere.

Starting from the top, the fourth thread down was started by the one and only "ViolaLove".

Now seeing the thread, Christine, with her memory refreshed, recalled posting the song. She had posted that clip of one of her original compositions for feedback about four weeks ago, but Christine forgot about it. The piece was composed a long time ago, and the clip was recorded two years ago.

Unable to listen to the mortifying simplicity of the melody and not wanting to refresh her memory of the song, Christine skipped the thread and went back to the email.

She hit the reply button to write a response back to the interested stranger. Christine thought about what she should write to this interested stranger. Pulling her hair back into a low ponytail, Christine came up with a reply.

Dear SilentSolitude,

I see you have stumbled upon an atrocious viola piece by me. Sorry, I don't have anything else recorded. Although I can always go record something, I only have a few compositions. They're only a smidge bit complex than the one you heard. And just to let you know, I only compose as a hobby when I have an inspiration.

Sincerely,
Christine

After looking over for any mistakes, Christine pressed send and was redirected back to her inbox.

Already in the inbox, the reply to Christine's email sat there looking ominously innocent.

The promptness of the reply surprised Christine. She didn't believe that someone could be that fast at responding, unless that person was anticipating for her email and was intent to reply.

Unlike last time, Christine opened the email without hesitation.

The email was short and frank.

Do you use AIM?

Christine was surprised with the seemingly random question; she did not expect that the reply to be so arbitrary and out of nowhere. Christine carefully thought about what she should respond. Did she want this person to be able to contact her on AIM? But it wouldn't matter because she only used AIM when she wanted to—mostly when she wanted to talk. She brushed the loose curls back and bit on her bottom lip.

Chill, it's not he wants to be your friend or ask you out. He just wanted to know if you had more clips, Christine thought.

Although her father has been dead for more than a year, six years to be precise, she still followed his rules. When Charles was still alive, he emphasized to never talk to people you do not know to his daughter. Christine believed in that, but now that her father was gone, she didn't feel that she really needed to abide to that. After all, she was an adult now and capable of taking care of herself.

After deciding to give her screen name to the intriguing stranger, Christine sent an email back with her screen name and stating that she did in fact use AIM. She then waited as she was being signed onto AIM. A pop up suddenly appeared as the buddy list finished loading.

The alert read, "Somber Harmony has IMed you. Do you accept?

"Assuming it was the same person who emailed her, Christine clicked on yes and the pop up turned into an IM window.

Somber Harmony (09:14:23PM): Hello Miss Daae

The message gave her an eerie sensation.
Christine felt weird being addressed "Miss Daae" since no one ever called her that regularly. Just as she finished typing her message and hit enter, another IM box popped up.

WackyBLONDE101 (09:15:27PM): Hey. What's up babe? Did you get my email?

After she answered yes, Christine switched back to the other box.

The mysterious person had asked if she played any other instruments and other sorts of questions and Christine answered him hesitantly. With all the interrogations, she felt like she was being analyzed like DNA being analyzed by her at work. If DNA was an organism, this must be how it feels when I stare at it, Christine aimlessly pondered.

On the other side of the conversation, Erik Destler was sitting behind his laptop typing away to his new acquaintance...

So she only plays viola and has been playing for about 17 years, I contemplated as I stretched out while sitting in my seat.

I took off my mask for it was becoming bothersome and placed it on my nightstand.

She is a rather interesting girl.

I then decided to ask her if she would mind recording something more recent for me. Resting my hands behind my head, I waited for her to respond.

love4viola (09:21:52PM): Sure. I'll do it asap.

I wanted to see how good she was currently. She seemed like someone I could talk to about music, someone who actually knew other songs besides Für Elise by Beethoven. A little contact with the outside world wouldn't hurt. After all, it wasn't as if I was going to marry her.

When I thanked her for fulfilling my minute request, she told me she had to go and signed off.

With nothing else to do, I put on my away message and went downstairs to get a glass of water. Who knew the lack of talking could make you thirsty?

Wrapping her conversation with her mysterious acquaintance, Christine shut down her computer and pushed the chair in. She turned off the lights as she exited the room, leaving it filled with complete darkness.

One by one, all the lights downstairs went out, making the entire first floor sinister and ominously silent.

Christine walked upstairs into her room. She changed out of her work attire and switched in her cami and plaid pajama bottoms. She then brushed her teeth. After keeping up with her dental hygiene, Christine shut the lights off and went to bed, resting for tomorrow's workload and waiting for what tomorrow would bring.

Unlike most people, who were sleeping, Erik was still awake in his room and worked on his new musical piece. It would be for viola, instead of his usual instrument, piano. Blowing the paper so he wouldn't be able to smudge the ink, he waited for the paper to dry. He looked over what he had written while humming the melody.

Erik turned to the side and looked at the clock. It was already one in the morning, but he had to finish this while the inspiration was still fresh in his mind.

Placing his pen back onto the paper, he scribbled some more notes. Because the pen ran out ink, Erik threw it into the wastebasket. He grabbed another pen on the desk and continued composing.

Currently, he had 76 measures written with 4 beats in each measure.

Erik continued to scribble feverishly.

After adding another 40 measures, Erik wrote the double bar to end the song. He then gathered the three music sheets together and placed them in a pile next to his other stack of music. Realizing his desk was in the state of disorganization, Erik sorted the mess, as he couldn't tolerate the disarray; everything had to be immaculate and tidy for him. He placed the writing utensils back into the cup of pencils and pens, and then took the randomly placed blank sheets of music paper and put it with the rest of the stack.

The digital clock now read 3:21 AM.

With the barest threads of fatigue reaching out for him, Erik walked downstairs with the empty glass from before and put it in the sink.

On his way back up, he caught a glimpse of his beloved piano in the dimly lit room. An idea came to him. Since he didn't play the tune and invented in his mind, he should test his new composition.

Seeing as he wasn't tired, he concluded he might as well go practice just to see how it would sound. After snatching the newly written music, Erik went back downstairs and into the music room.

Leaving the lights off, since the moonlight was adequate for Erik's night vision, he placed the music on the piano. He then played with his right hand without warming up, since it was not necessary for him.

Now that he heard it audibly instead of mentally, he felt that it needed more. He took the pen that was conveniently located on the grand piano and started extending the piece.

It's better, but now it's three and a half pages, Erik mused after adding more music. He always preferred music to have whole pages rather than end with a page half filled. It was like having one and a half cakes.

Deciding to make it four complete pages instead of three and a half pages, Erik carefully made sure it would end at the right place. He built up the dynamics and then ended the piece with a decrescendo so it would just fade into nothing instead of ending abruptly.

Now he mentally went through the song again. He next took out his favorite stringed instrument, the violin and placed it on his shoulder, assuming it was already tuned.

Not in the mood to stand, he just played it sitting on the piano stool with the music right in front of him at eye level.

Perfect, he thought as the last note faded.

When Erik finished playing, he decided he would write a piano accompaniment some other day. Erik then put away the violin. He next gathered the music together and placed it in a manila folder. On his way out of the room, he closed the door, closing it off to a certain black furry resident.

Learning from Ayesha's fond for instruments, specifically wooden stringed instruments, such as the violin, Erik had started closing doors to certain rooms so the feline wouldn't be able to scratch the instrument and cut the strings like as if it were its play toys. It started getting pricey to replace the damaged parts, as he had to keep fixing the beautiful instruments over and over again.

Erik then walked upstairs to his room. Once in his room, he changed out of his day clothes and into a pair of black yoga pants. He tied his black silk robe around him.

Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was 4:36 AM.

Slipping under the covers, he closed his eyes. He would sleep, but then only to wake up in three hours.

Oh, and I have no clue when the next chapter will be posted. But I definitely know I will finish this story.