The Composer

His world began with a spark. Then, a noise echoes through the room. Then, another noise rings through his head, and he plays it. The room now has two noises. The boy keeps playing. More noises fill the room. The boy keeps playing. The room rumbles. The boy stops. A cacophony replaces the air. His ears bleed. The boy presses a key. The room becomes silent. His symphony is complete. The boy raises his hands and spreads his arms. The boy opens his mouth and he sings. The noises came back, forming a sweet melody. The boy settles down and places his hands on the keyboard. The notes are flowing to him, guiding him to his sweet symphony. The boy pours his soul into the sounds, meaning each and every key he plays. The boy’s eardrums burst. His eyes tearing, but he continues to play. A man enters the room, and sits down quietly. He is listening, enjoying the union of raw sounds. The man doesn’t see, but knows. The man’s ears are fine. The boy keeps playing. His fingers are getting sore. A woman enters the room, looking on to him. She goes to him, observing his movements. The boy does not look at her and continues playing. The woman speaks, criticising him. The boy does not look but listens. The woman turns her back towards him and hums to the tune of the melody. A child enters the room and looks at him. He observes the boy playing. He is intrigued by his movements. The boy doesn’t look. The child spouts his empty wishes, smiling at the boy. The boy continues playing. The child stands firm at his sit, admiring in pure curiosity. The child hums to the tune, and mimics his movements. The boy sees this and stops, his fingers swollen from playing. The child looks at his figure as the boy smiles brightly. The boy rubs his hair and mutters.

“Thank you, for listening.”