BadForm
Bad attitude in any Form
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2001
- Posts
- 4,550
The music school of Celeste Bathory-Beck was world renowned. She charged the wealthy a fortune to practice under her, but as her guarantee that any competition her graduates entered would be won by one of them had yet to fail it was felt to be well worth it. She herself grew to be rich beyond reason and as she did so even began offering tuition free to those who could not afford to pay. I had been one of her fortunate scholarship awardees, or so I thought.
On reflection, I should have wondered about her name.
On reflection, I should have wondered about the fact that the music school was a converted concert hall - soundproofed to ensure the loudest of orchestral manouvers did not disturb the peace outside.
On reflection, I should have wondered about my final practice piece being Mozart's Requiem.
Reflection is a terrible thing. I was too excited to do anything but focus on every score, every movement, every note and practice until I was pitch perfect. That's when it all went wrong. I arrived that day to be led into the music hall by Mme. Bathory-Beck's assistant Steve. He urged me to be quiet as she was on the phone with an important client. I only overheard her part of the conversation, but that thrilled me.
"Siegfried, I wanted to ask if you could wait for the girl we discussed."
"Nono, she is doing very well. She should be ready to play for you within a couple of days, but I have a young man who is showing great promise. He is a celloist and I feel that if you can leave the girl with me for a while I could send them to you as a duet to star in you upcoming recital."
I knew I could have been wrong, but somehow I was certain she was talking about me. It sounded like she was referring me and a female student of hers to an orchestra owner to star in his show. This was better than any competition. This was a career being launched. I had no idea who the other student was, but I was eager to meet her.
On reflection, I should have wondered about the fact that I had never heard of Mme. Bathory-Beck ever referring students to orchestras before, especially as stars.
I played my heart out for her that day. I had everything to prove and, if I'd been right, everything to lose should a single note be out of tune. She beamed at me throughout the practice and at the end lay a hand on my shoulder.
"Ah, Thomas, you will make an old woman cry," she said. "I have some good news for you. I have a client who would very much like to make your acquaintance."
I could scarcely breathe. I wanted to scream for joy, but my throat had knotted tightly. Next to the wall Thomas lay his hand on a switch.
"But first, I wish you to meet the woman you will be playing with."
Steve flipped the switch and a small section of the wall slid aside. Beyond I saw a woman tightly bound to an upright X made of wood. She was clad in leather which concealed less than it revealed. Her face was all but covered in a hood so that only her eyes, her wide, seemingly vacant eyes were visible. Her whole body trembled as I turned back to face Mme. Bathory-Beck. She was holding a gun.
On reflection, I should never have entered her school.
On reflection, I should have wondered about her name.
On reflection, I should have wondered about the fact that the music school was a converted concert hall - soundproofed to ensure the loudest of orchestral manouvers did not disturb the peace outside.
On reflection, I should have wondered about my final practice piece being Mozart's Requiem.
Reflection is a terrible thing. I was too excited to do anything but focus on every score, every movement, every note and practice until I was pitch perfect. That's when it all went wrong. I arrived that day to be led into the music hall by Mme. Bathory-Beck's assistant Steve. He urged me to be quiet as she was on the phone with an important client. I only overheard her part of the conversation, but that thrilled me.
"Siegfried, I wanted to ask if you could wait for the girl we discussed."
"Nono, she is doing very well. She should be ready to play for you within a couple of days, but I have a young man who is showing great promise. He is a celloist and I feel that if you can leave the girl with me for a while I could send them to you as a duet to star in you upcoming recital."
I knew I could have been wrong, but somehow I was certain she was talking about me. It sounded like she was referring me and a female student of hers to an orchestra owner to star in his show. This was better than any competition. This was a career being launched. I had no idea who the other student was, but I was eager to meet her.
On reflection, I should have wondered about the fact that I had never heard of Mme. Bathory-Beck ever referring students to orchestras before, especially as stars.
I played my heart out for her that day. I had everything to prove and, if I'd been right, everything to lose should a single note be out of tune. She beamed at me throughout the practice and at the end lay a hand on my shoulder.
"Ah, Thomas, you will make an old woman cry," she said. "I have some good news for you. I have a client who would very much like to make your acquaintance."
I could scarcely breathe. I wanted to scream for joy, but my throat had knotted tightly. Next to the wall Thomas lay his hand on a switch.
"But first, I wish you to meet the woman you will be playing with."
Steve flipped the switch and a small section of the wall slid aside. Beyond I saw a woman tightly bound to an upright X made of wood. She was clad in leather which concealed less than it revealed. Her face was all but covered in a hood so that only her eyes, her wide, seemingly vacant eyes were visible. Her whole body trembled as I turned back to face Mme. Bathory-Beck. She was holding a gun.
On reflection, I should never have entered her school.
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