The Art of Sound
Music was a beautiful thing.
The melodies, rhythms and the timbre of every song was something so magnificent. Oh, how much Luno longed to be able to experience this beauty again, it truly was unfathomable.
But alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Not just this new moon night was quiet to him; everything was. Had he listened to his brother so many years ago, his world would still have its acoustic beauty.
But he didn’t, and it cost him so much. No more music, no more laughter. But the worst day in Luno’s life was when he forgot what his mother’s voice sounded like. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remember it. It didn’t matter how many times he wracked his brain, the memory just would not return. He started crying into his pillow.
If he was silently crying or screaming at the top of his lungs, only God knows. The tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he made no effort to stop them. Not like they would’ve stopped anyway. Luno pulled his blanket over his head and continued to cry. For hours and hours, he bawled his eyes out.
And then, suddenly, his tears just ceased to flow for no apparent reason. He went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Luno hated what he saw, the broken weakling he had become; the huge burden on his family. And all of that because he just had to be a rebel. Oh, what a fool he had been; so naive and so idiotic. Rage surged within him and it burst out of him.
In a fit of anger, he smashed the bathroom mirror into a million tiny pieces.