Closed A lonely voice

Timothy practices singing.

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This lazy agricultural settlement rests on the swampy shores of the Middle Suvan at the delta of The Kenash River. The River's slow moving bayou waters have bred a different sort of people - rugged, cultured, and somewhat violent. Sprawling plantations of tobacco and cotton grow on the outskirts of the swamp in the rich Cyphrus soils, while the city itself curls around the bayou and spawns decadence and sins of all sorts. Life is slower in Kenash, but the lack of pace is made up for in the excesses of food and flesh in a city where drinking, debauchery, gambling, slavery, and overbearing plantation families dominate the landscape.

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A lonely voice

Postby Timothy Mered on November 23rd, 2014, 9:30 pm

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41st of Fall 514AV


Jed’s working scheme was as unpredictable as all his other habits. One day Timothy’s master would slave away at a piece of furniture, the other he would not do much at all. Today was one of those quiet, dull days. At first Timothy had loathed them. They bored him out of his mind. Jed didn’t exactly allow him to roam freely outside, and by now he’d seen every miserable little corner of the shop.

While rare, these were the moments where he would be alone at the shop. The door was firmly locked of course. Jed’s trust was almost non-existent, and for good reason. Nevertheless, he was alone, and with nothing but himself for company, he’d started to sing again.

The dusty shop room was his theater. The counter his stage. The pieces of finished and unfinished furniture his audience. Hands folded behind his back he stood, sucked in a deep breath, puffed up his chest and-

As always, the first note came out forced and he could hear it was off. The second note was better, but still too low. The third and fourth followed smoothly, but the melody wasn’t exactly hard. Even the worst mothers of Sunberth could croak the nursery rhyme he sang. But could they sing it higher? The concept of an octave had never been explained to Timothy but came naturally to him. The trouble was in the last few measures, he didn’t have enough breath, range, or power to hit the final notes.

Gasping, he ceased his first attempt. He had never had any musical training, but he’d heard some performers busk in the streets of Sunberth. One of them had been a young man, five years older than himself and blessed with a golden voice. Even back then his untrained ears had appreciated the range and power of the performer’s voice. He thought back to the moment and recalled how the performer had put one finger on his ear to help pitch his voice.

Mimicking the technique, Timothy pressed a finger against his right ear and took a deep breath. This time, he sang more slowly, making sure to hit each note right. There were still notes that were hard to reach, and he had to stop and rewind multiple times before he barely passed them all.

A gasped sigh escaped him near the end. How could it be so hard? Whenever he tried to conserve his breath, he could not sing confidently and his voice lacked power. But when he gave it his all, he ended up being out of breath halfway through, and with a sting in his throat to boot.

He shot a quick glance out the window to make sure no one was near. Fortunately, the street was as abandoned as before, aside from a few chirping birds outside. Yet, at the same time he couldn’t help but feel a little sad that none was there to hear him try. Maybe if he became good enough, he could get away from Jed and his worthless shop.
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Timothy Mered
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