15 Steven Listens To A Song

The auditorium. The grand curtains in suspension. The show had yet to start.

The freshmen classes poured in. Steven sat down on a random seat.

Two women sat on the edge of the stage.

"Hello," The women said. "I'm the music teacher! My name is Mrs. Muse!" She was past her prime, and though she didn't have the same allure, time couldn't hide what once was a reveled beauty.

"Hi," The other said, "I'm the vocal teacher, My name is Mrs. Song." She said softly. Her words had a musical quality to them, charming and elegant.

"This is the auditorium. I teach music history and instruct students on playing an instrument. Mrs. Song teaches Korean, along with being a vocal teacher. It's a pleasure to meet all of you. So usually, I teach two classes at a time, but today's a bit special. Since it's the first day meeting you all, I'll let some of my seniors play you a few songs!"

The curtains opened.

Mrs. Muse started conducting the orchestra.

The first violinist started the piece.

Slow and steady, then quickening, it was composed of warm tones. It sounded like an ode to a loved one.

On the second verse, a note was changed, which created a despondent vibe, amidst the buoyant notes.

The sound of music rang through the halls. The melody was sweet, yet melancholy, and the story it told was a bittersweet tale. The harmony, and also the contrast of the different instruments, painted a wonderful symphony where the world seemed warm, even if blossoming only for a few moments, and then dissipating.

The music was recounting memories of an everlasting love.

It was a requiem for a loved one.

A ritenuto, the music slowed down.

Then, a male singer joined in.

The language that he sang in, seemed ancient, powerful, but also filled with restraint. It was a language from far ago- Latin.

The female singer joined in, their distinctive pitches creating a beautiful duet.

Accellerato, the music grew more anxious, and fast-paced, becoming a crescendo, torrents of notes gradually growing louder and louder.

Caesura. The music stopped.

Now, only the viola played. Deep, and sorrowful, a contrast to the violin's high pitches. The male singer started singing again, this time alone.

It was a dirge—an elegy for her.

The song stopped.

. . .

The audience clapped, vigorously. Some members of the audience even had tears in their eyes, the music evoking many emotions in them.

Steven had tears in his eyes, after waking up from a good nap. He yawned, still a bit sleepy.

"Now, of course, these are some of the official orchestra and chorus members. They had years of practice and dedicated many hours of hard work to become this skilled at the craft. With hard work, most of you guys can reach their level." Mrs. Muse said excitedly.

"Mrs. Muse, excuse me. Can I say something?" Mrs. Song asked.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

Mrs. Song looked at the audience.

"Sadly, even with hard work, without the correct voice, not everyone can become talented. I applaud hard work, but there are things in life you can't force. You can't force a blind person to see colors." She said softly, a bit wistfully.

The dispirited freshmen became quiet.

"However, even if I can't make you the best singer, I can guarantee that you're not just limited to singing. Everyone has their different talents, and spending too much time pursuing one thing can come back to haunt you. There's a difference between giving up when there's a chance, and giving up when there is none."

Silence.

"And even, if you have talent, you live in a world where some people objectify others and appreciate them solely based on their aesthetic. You might find it hard to succeed. Not to mention-"

"Alright Mrs. Song," Mrs. Muse said. "Along with the official music classes that you have, we also have special advanced classes. Today, after school, we have auditions for the official orchestra and chorus, hope you can make it."

The bell rang, except this time, it felt much more downcast.