Igby
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- Posted: Tue, 15 Feb 2005 07:00:12 +0000
It was only after reading this through that I noticed the similarities between it and my other story, never-the-less, I would love your opinions on it. Because hey, I actually finished something! whee
So yes, it was written fairly quickly and as ever I based it on one idea and it turned out nothing like I thought it would. Any thoughts/critisisms/corrections loved, thanks! heart
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A large orchestra will normally consist of 96 seats. These seats are divided into sections such as strings, percussion and woodwind. When led by the right conductor an orchestra can produce some of the most emotionally stirring pieces of music known to man. The vivid imagery they can produce, the feelings they can muster, the spirit they embody is nigh impossible to put into words. 'Beautiful' does not suffice.
Most people will argue that the world has already seen its greatest composers come and go. They will list the usual names one automatically associates with classical music, and it would be difficult to find anyone to disagree with the statement. Difficult, but not impossible. For their will always be those that are egotistical, ignorant or crazy enough to think that this pop culture soaked world could spawn another great composer, or that they themselves could write better music. While on that note, ladies and gentleman, allow me to introduce your conductor for the evening, Richard Finch!
Now although Richard has a great love for classical music, he had been turned down by every music school in his city. Not for lack of talent, but for his ideas, because of his habit of defying convention and the fact that he refused to take his pills on a regular basis, if at all. Psychiatrists would tell you he is unstable, his family would tell you he's just plain crazy, but Richard would tell you that he is a genius, and one way ahead of his time! In his mind, the music schools denying him access only cemented the idea that he was a visionary, one of the great minds of his generation. After all, aren't all geniuses misunderstood at first?
Richard was slightly disheartened after the last music school in his city turned him down, so much so that for three days he sat in the darkness of his room, headphones immersing him in the sounds he so adored, the sounds that he so badly wanted to improve upon, but how could he do that without his own orchestra, without proper tutelage in the various nuances of classical music and conducting? The strain on his mind was unbearable. Soon he became numb, his mind unaware of what song was being played, for the first time in his life the music evoked no emotion from him, and that is when his revelation occurred.
Defying convention was his speciality, so in that sense he didn't need a proper orchestra. How does the saying go? 'The whole world is a stage', I believe. In that case, the stage would play host to Richards very own impromptu orchestra. His music would transcend everything that had gone before, the emotional power of it would be unmatched. It would be from the heart, though not necessarily his own.
The early evenings during the month of July were always warm, which insured that public parks were always brimming with people. It was for this reason that Richard chose a park near to his home for the world premier of his as yet untitled piece. He had chosen a spot on a small grassy hill, one that elevated him above the rest of the parks inhabitants, as is customary for a conductor. Dressed in his finest outfit, and immaculately groomed, he attracted a fair amount of attention, even more so when he bowed formally to the waiting crowd, they cheered, wondering if he would perform something for them.
Richard often used baton when he practiced conducting, and he intended to use one for this performance, he slowly drew it from his pocket and held the 9mm pistol high in the air. The crowd fell silent; they must have been as excited as he was!
Richard's sweaty finger pulled down on the trigger, the shot fired high into the air, followed in that split second by the screams of those in the park. His masterpiece had begun. Richard aimed down, moving his free hand with grace, following the pitches of the screams. He pulled the trigger twice in quick succession, sending two terrified people crashing to the ground in agony as many others scrambled to escape. The wind began to blow, the nearby stream seemed to become louder, the screams of men and women mingled together. Nature and man in unison, creating a sound so pure. Firing blindly caused screams to rise and fall, the two bodies near him provided constant sounds, yet they all seemed to fit.
Richard was unaware of how many bullets he had left, he didn't care, he fired again and again for he was immersed, mind and body following the sound, his arms would rise and fall again and again in flamboyant movements. Quiet, loud, heart wrenching, stomach turning, his master piece quickly took shape, encompassing so many aspects, he'd never dreamt of something so magnificent. Soon the urgent sound of sirens became apparent, rising more and more with each passing second, the piece was building to a dramatic ending, and in the middle of it all stood Richard, composing as his idols would have. This was it, his big finish. He slowly opened his eyes, and for a split second he caught a glint of something off in the distance, a faint smile played across his lips as the bullet from the police sniper tore through his skull. The conducter fell silently to grass.
Soon the screams would die down, the sirens would disappear, and the world would hear about Richard Finch's one and only performance, and of the huge effect it had had on those who witnessed it, no one would forget. After all, they're called classics for a reason.
So yes, it was written fairly quickly and as ever I based it on one idea and it turned out nothing like I thought it would. Any thoughts/critisisms/corrections loved, thanks! heart
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
A large orchestra will normally consist of 96 seats. These seats are divided into sections such as strings, percussion and woodwind. When led by the right conductor an orchestra can produce some of the most emotionally stirring pieces of music known to man. The vivid imagery they can produce, the feelings they can muster, the spirit they embody is nigh impossible to put into words. 'Beautiful' does not suffice.
Most people will argue that the world has already seen its greatest composers come and go. They will list the usual names one automatically associates with classical music, and it would be difficult to find anyone to disagree with the statement. Difficult, but not impossible. For their will always be those that are egotistical, ignorant or crazy enough to think that this pop culture soaked world could spawn another great composer, or that they themselves could write better music. While on that note, ladies and gentleman, allow me to introduce your conductor for the evening, Richard Finch!
Now although Richard has a great love for classical music, he had been turned down by every music school in his city. Not for lack of talent, but for his ideas, because of his habit of defying convention and the fact that he refused to take his pills on a regular basis, if at all. Psychiatrists would tell you he is unstable, his family would tell you he's just plain crazy, but Richard would tell you that he is a genius, and one way ahead of his time! In his mind, the music schools denying him access only cemented the idea that he was a visionary, one of the great minds of his generation. After all, aren't all geniuses misunderstood at first?
Richard was slightly disheartened after the last music school in his city turned him down, so much so that for three days he sat in the darkness of his room, headphones immersing him in the sounds he so adored, the sounds that he so badly wanted to improve upon, but how could he do that without his own orchestra, without proper tutelage in the various nuances of classical music and conducting? The strain on his mind was unbearable. Soon he became numb, his mind unaware of what song was being played, for the first time in his life the music evoked no emotion from him, and that is when his revelation occurred.
Defying convention was his speciality, so in that sense he didn't need a proper orchestra. How does the saying go? 'The whole world is a stage', I believe. In that case, the stage would play host to Richards very own impromptu orchestra. His music would transcend everything that had gone before, the emotional power of it would be unmatched. It would be from the heart, though not necessarily his own.
The early evenings during the month of July were always warm, which insured that public parks were always brimming with people. It was for this reason that Richard chose a park near to his home for the world premier of his as yet untitled piece. He had chosen a spot on a small grassy hill, one that elevated him above the rest of the parks inhabitants, as is customary for a conductor. Dressed in his finest outfit, and immaculately groomed, he attracted a fair amount of attention, even more so when he bowed formally to the waiting crowd, they cheered, wondering if he would perform something for them.
Richard often used baton when he practiced conducting, and he intended to use one for this performance, he slowly drew it from his pocket and held the 9mm pistol high in the air. The crowd fell silent; they must have been as excited as he was!
Richard's sweaty finger pulled down on the trigger, the shot fired high into the air, followed in that split second by the screams of those in the park. His masterpiece had begun. Richard aimed down, moving his free hand with grace, following the pitches of the screams. He pulled the trigger twice in quick succession, sending two terrified people crashing to the ground in agony as many others scrambled to escape. The wind began to blow, the nearby stream seemed to become louder, the screams of men and women mingled together. Nature and man in unison, creating a sound so pure. Firing blindly caused screams to rise and fall, the two bodies near him provided constant sounds, yet they all seemed to fit.
Richard was unaware of how many bullets he had left, he didn't care, he fired again and again for he was immersed, mind and body following the sound, his arms would rise and fall again and again in flamboyant movements. Quiet, loud, heart wrenching, stomach turning, his master piece quickly took shape, encompassing so many aspects, he'd never dreamt of something so magnificent. Soon the urgent sound of sirens became apparent, rising more and more with each passing second, the piece was building to a dramatic ending, and in the middle of it all stood Richard, composing as his idols would have. This was it, his big finish. He slowly opened his eyes, and for a split second he caught a glint of something off in the distance, a faint smile played across his lips as the bullet from the police sniper tore through his skull. The conducter fell silently to grass.
Soon the screams would die down, the sirens would disappear, and the world would hear about Richard Finch's one and only performance, and of the huge effect it had had on those who witnessed it, no one would forget. After all, they're called classics for a reason.
