Sanity is forbidden Circulation: 81,645,694 Issue: 153 | 16th day of Hiding, Y6
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Musical Meaning


by harmo333

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Losian sauntered along, her dark coat gleaming in the dying November sun. Autumn leaves of bright gold, brown, and orange whirled about in the slight, refreshing breeze. The Gelert herself showed no interest in the beautiful day, her eyes listless, her gait exhausted. I lost, I lost the competition. Months of hard work amounting to nothing, she sighed within her mind.

Padding along the well-worn sidewalk, Losian’s mind wandered back to the “Best Flutist in Southwest Neopia Central” contest held just a few days past. She had practiced painstakingly for several months on her pieces, ever working on them every spare minute she had. It was not the fifty thousand neopoints prize that had motivated her. No, it was the pride of recognition, for accomplishing something to look fondly back upon and cherish that drove her to the limits.

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“Hey, Lo, take a look at this!” exclaimed a small Lupe pup, dragging his sister towards a notice in the Toy Shop window.

Losian scowled when she saw their destination. “We already bought you some Neoblocks last week, Archer…” she began.

“Nah, it’s not that! Look at the sign right there, can’t you see it?” gestured Archer, pointing obviously at the shop display.

The Gelert narrowed her eyes as they quickly padded closer. Soon, she could make out the smaller print on the sign, and her mouth dropped open in surprise:

Southwest Neopia Central Flutist Competition

A contest for all ages! Come prove your worth at this competition, with a 500 NP admission fee donated to the Soup Kitchen!

The winner will receive 50,000 NP and a gold trophy!

Held at the Art Centre, Deep Catacombs on November 1st.

Eyeing the date apprehensively, Losian muttered more to herself than her brother, “Only three months away…”

“I know, but I think you could win, sis! Everyone who hears you loves your music! And, golly, fifty thousand neopoints!” gabbled Archer excitedly.

So began Losian’s practicing after that fateful day to begin new pieces, learn, and polish them for the competition. The months raced by, the Gelert’s mind a flurry of activity and apprehension. She blew into her flute until she felt dizzy; she pushed the keys until her fingers were sore. She fell asleep to dreams of winning, of everyone cheering, of coming away with her reward indefinitely…

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The day had come, at last. Losian came alone today, since Archer was at Neoschool and did not have the day off as she did, while her owner was away at work in “the real world”. Taking the worn, cold steps down into the Deep Catacombs, Losian took a deep breath to calm herself. The usual Aishas stood chatting, arguing and debating the issues of the Neopian day. “Kougra #3 will win, I’m sure of it! Look at how tall and fierce it is!” “Nah, #2’s a real contender…” And so the debates wore on. Smiling slightly, the Gelert weaved around the various buildings, catching a delicious, warm whiff of a Zeenana Cappucino from the snug Coffee Shop.

Heading to the rear of the building, Losian slowed her pace. A rather large group of Neopians was already gathering, although she had left the house early.

“Hold on, folks! Performers will be called in one at a time in alphabetical order to be judged. In the meantime, please wait outside or near the stairs, as the Catacombs will be packed to burst if this keeps up!” ushered a Bruce importantly, his voice booming about on the loud speaker.

It was about an hour’s wait for Losian, who had bought this week’s issue of the Neopian Times from the plump yellow Chia and plopped down on one of the various scattered benches in the Catacombs. Laughing at the antics in the comics section and finishing up a few heart-wrenching, inspiring series, Losian heard her name cut through her thoughts like a knife.

“Losian, the Shadow Gelert! Owner is harmo333! Please come forward!”

Losian nervously walked up to the judges’ table, handing them her registration card and copies of her music. Three of them sat there: an elderly Mynci whose spectacles emphasized her deep brown eyes, a young Usul with neatly trimmed white fur about her neck, and a strict appearing Lenny, the group’s leader.

Bowing and stepping quietly to a metal folding chair a few feet away facing the judges, her flute clutched in her hand, Losian sat, taking care to put up her music properly on the stand and appear confident. Looking again towards the judges’ table, she saw the trio nod briefly to her, the Usul giving her an encouraging smile. Taking a deep breath, Losian began to play with her anxiety saturated throughout her performance, her mind anxiously plowing through the piece…

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“And the winner of the Southwest Neopia Central Flutist Competition is…” stopping in mid-sentence with a dramatic pause, as though one could taste the breathless anticipation in the Art Centre; this was the defining moment. “Allegra, the starry Zafara!” bellowed the deep voiced Bruce, his blue wings clapping his applause with the audience.

The cheers were deafening, Allegra’s friends whistling and hooting, the crowd jumping up and down frantically. A Shadow Gelert in the audience clapped good-naturedly with the rest, watching the Zafara happily head towards the waiting judges to her prize, although feeling a pang of disappointment within. Why hadn’t she won, she who would given her best, her greatest energies, the most power she could muster? Because I was too nervous, replied the truthful part of her mind. Because I was not true to myself…

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I gave my best, and it was not enough. Sitting down upon a wooden park bench after reminiscing, Losian looked about her quietly, not truly taking in her surroundings. A spry Nimmo with a violin played softly under a maple tree, a street performer whose case stood wide open to catch any spare change caring Neopians might have. The trees swayed as young Neopets gamboled in the distance with giggles and shouts. The Gelert became lost in her own thoughts, the Nimmo’s music soothing her mind, her thoughts turning the competition’s outcome over and over in her head…

With a start, Losian snapped out of her reverie. Darkness was falling, and the Nimmo had stopped playing, while Neopets in the park headed home with their owners, ruddy-faced and jovial. Stiffly getting up, the Gelert dropped a few coins into the violinist’s case as she passed the Nimmo on her way home.

“That was some wonderful playing, sir,” she said quietly with a smile, understanding the value of praise to all musicians.

Nodding his head with a grin, the Nimmo replied, “Of course, I play from my heart. I don’t play for the money or the praise of passersby; I play to express my life, my feelings, my soul. It is the art of music.”

“But, do you not play for a living?” asked Losian curiously, cocking her head.

The musician beamed. “Yes, in a way I do. But, you see, I play more importantly to live life, to channel my energy and emotions into the outlet of music.”

Leaving his mysterious sentence in the air and a pensive Losian behind, he folded his violin quickly into its case with a wink before hopping off into the sunset. The Gelert slackened her pace as she walked in the direction of her Neohome. What is the meaning of music? To hear the cheers of the crowd at a competition, to come home in triumph with a trophy or ribbon? Then Losian shook her head firmly, stopping suddenly. No, I play for myself, my heart, my soul, no matter the opinions of others. With that thought in mind, she smiled at her dawning comprehension and galloped home. Yes, indeed, that is the true beauty of music.

THE END

 
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