Bastian rolled toward the wall of his tent as he pulled the blanket over his head. “Unless it’s my freedom, I’m not interested.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it. At least peek. Then you can go right back to bed, I promise.” The little panda sighed. He couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be this time. Maybe a slightly better-fitting clown suit? How wonderful…He groaned as he rolled over again. He could barely open his eyes with the crust surrounding them. He wiped once before staring forward. It was blurry, but the shape was unmistakable. “No way.” He sat up before wiping his eyes again and taking a good look at his present. A cello! And a damn nice-looking one at that.
Over the past few weeks, he’d almost forgotten the circumstances that brought him here. He’d had to fill in as a solo cellist for a local orchestra, due to a ridiculous set of circumstances involving two mimes and an anvil. Long story. The time after the concert was a blur. He remembered walking the halls, going out to get some fresh air, and then…nothing. Was SHE there as well? Is this why she kidnapped him? He hadn’t considered it, or even thought to ask. He tried to converse with her as little as possible.
In only his boxers. He leapt from the side of bed as he eyed the instrument. It almost looked brand new. The varnish was immaculate, giving the entire instrument a vibrant, iridescent shine. The flame on the back was beautiful, the stripe of the wood extending from the center in a subdued, reddish zebra pattern.
“Originally, we procured the one you played in the concert,” The woman cut in. “But the quality left something to be desired. I commissioned this one for you instead.” So she WAS at the concert. That explained some things. “Wait. You commissioned this? For me?”
“Of course, from one of the greatest makers in the land. He does fine work, does he not?” The cello rested against black, painted stand. Its bow sat neatly on a stool next to it. Bastian took it in hand and took his seat in front of the instrument. It sat comfortably in between his legs. The fingerboard was thinner than what he expected. The entire thing seemed a bit smaller than usual. Was that on purpose? Being on the smaller side, Bastian DID always have trouble reaching certain notes on his instrument. The smaller size would hurt the sound for sure, but given that he didn’t plan on playing in front of an orchestra any time soon, it would probably be fine.
He dragged the bow across the strings. The resonance…THE RESONANCE. It filled the tent five times over. It was shockingly loud. He played through some scales. His fingers glided up and down the neck with ease. It was so comfortable! It would take some breaking-in, however. His intonation was off. It was a new instrument, after all. Not only that, but he hadn’t gone this long without practicing in…well…he couldn’t remember. Growing up, he had practiced almost every day, under threat of a good spanking by his mother.
He held the bow by his side as he pondered. “Why? Why would you do this for me?” The clown took a long puff of her cigar. She exhaled. “Because I recognize talent when I see it. It’s my duty to foster it.” “That’s not what I meant.” He turned toward her, staring at her intimidating eyes. Despite a soft expression, her gaze would scare any man, her eyes an unnatural, multi-colored chaos. Bastian, didn’t shy away from them. “This must have cost a fortune. What’s your game? What do you want from me?”
Without answering, she made her way over to her desk and grabbed her chair. She sat directly in front of him. “Play something for me. Please.”
He should have known he wouldn’t have gotten an answer. He had tried that one before, multiple times. What she did couldn’t even be considered ‘dodging the question.’ She just flat out ignored it every time! Bastian scoffed. He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry at it anymore. Just annoyed.
He let out a heavy sigh and rested his bow against the strings.
