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Aberrant: Children of Heaven - Pastorals

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His mom had woken him up fifteen minutes before his alarm would have gone off to tell him that something had happened to the school and he had the day off. He'd grunted in appreciation and promptly fell back asleep for the next few hours. When he'd finally got up, the house had the odd surreal feeling he supposed houses always had in the middle of the day when no one else was supposed to be there. He felt like he was intruding on its meditation or something.

He'd grabbed a breakfast of Hot Pockets and a Totino's pizza, smirking to himself when he idly noted that everything in the fridge or freezer was a grab-and-heat meal. They didn't even have eggs. Then again, it wasn't like anyone in his family would have known what to do with them if they were there. He pluncked himself down in front of the tv while he inhaled his brunch, but the middle of the afternoon on a weekday was a tv wasteland even with cable.

Hands washed and the paper plate disposed of, he grabbed his guitar from his room. One of the jingles from an energy drink commercial was rattling incessantly around in his head and he figured he could get it out by messing around with the melody on the guitar. He luxuriated in being able to practice down in the living room instead of being cramped up in his bedroom.

He plucked at the strings, surprised that he remembered the entire jingle from only having heard it once. He played through it a few more times, getting the feel for how it caught in the mind, and then actually sang the silly lyrics along with it. He played with it then, turning the notes back in on themselves and stretching the themes of the little ditty near to the breaking point. He wrote new lyrics in his mind as well, taking the mountain bikers and beach runners from the commercial and applying their passion for movement to the landscapes behind them.

He lost himself in his play, eyes on closed in concentration or downcast to the instrument in his hands. It wasn't until he felt he'd hit it just right that he looked up to see the mountainside he was sitting on, and the picturesque ocean lapping at the beaches that sloped down from the mountain's sides. The sun was bright but not too bright, and everything was moving in gentle waves from the summer breeze that was blowing. The song was there, too, echoing back at him as if he were still in the living room at home.

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Valentine smiled which was a rare thing indeed. The images he had in his mind had come to live – at least it felt like it. He stopped playing the guitar and suddenly the pictures faded into the background and vaporized into nothing revealing the room he was in just like he knew it. He stood up and looked at the guitar and then around the room. Was he dreaming? No – definitely not. He never dreamt like this. Something was different and he just had a faint idea what it was.

He went back to his room and shuffled through his CDs picking out the soundtrack from Amelie from Montmartre and hit play on his stereo while he sat down at his keyboard. He listened carefully to his favourite track and then turned off the stereo and closed his eyes. Then he started to play:

Comptine D'un Autre Été

With his eyes still closed he picture the music in his mind and it just flowed through his body as he played it flawlessly on his keyboard. He didn't smile but he was never happier before in his entire life.

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Valentine had lost track of time as much as he didn’t realize that he was continuing playing piece over and over again each time adding something of his own personal flavour to it which did much to improve it.

His concentration broke buy something as silly as the alarm sound of his stop watch. It was set to lunch time and he was already late. He stopped playing and stared at the keyboard for a few seconds. What has happened? Everything seemed so easy to him. The music was constantly in his head – he didn’t even need the MP3-Player anymore to perfectly recall his favourite songs.

Valentine packed his stuff humming the melody of the piano piece he just played. His voice hit the notes perfectly and generated a very warm and harmonious melody through his vocal chords. He was convinced that he could perfectly sing now without ever having a singing lesson. This was just too awesome. He left a note for his mom and took the last money he had leaving the condo for the bus.

(ooc: Continued in Zoey's thread: Going Places )

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