Grafton Globe Newspaper
Winter 2020 Edition
Do I have something I can call my own?
Long had he pondered such a question to himself; always searching for something like that—something to call his own. Ever since they were children, the two twins, two boys who were both as much different as they were similar, had always been distant. Always, always, always. The older of the two had always been more reserved, more solemn. The younger had always been more open, more lighthearted. Often times, they were compared as to the night and the day. Two parts of a whole sky, yet still isolated. The younger of the two was not only quite popular at school: classmates, teachers, other staff, he succeeded in all he tried to do with flying colors, ranging from any sports to club activities. The other was hidden in his brother’s shadow. Although not any less kind hearted than his brother, his personality was unattractive to many. He never scored any higher than his brother could despite the effort he put into his studies. And when he tried new activities or sports, his brother would always follow, outshining him in mere days of joining. He never could escape the shadow cast upon him. Yet now, he had found something that could be his own. The older brother had walked by the music store on the way home from school that cloudy evening. Normally, he would walk on by but today was different. As he walked past, one of the clerks outside of the shop stopped him. The clerk seemed to be about the same age as him—perhaps even someone who went to his school. But he didn't recognize this clerk, so that couldn't be a possibility. “Do you perhaps play an instrument at all?” the clerk inquired. He thought for a moment. He couldn't recall ever playing an instrument throughout all his years. Even if he had, it would've been for such an insignificant amount of time as to be forgotten within a few months. He shook his head. The clerk looked surprised for a moment then apologized to the other for bothering him. The passerby gave an understanding nod and started to continue walking. No more than five storefronts, the boy felt a drop of rain on his head. Then another. And three more. Soon, an onslaught of pouring rain attacked. The weather reports had just predicted cloudiness, not rain. He needed to find somewhere to take shelter. He ran back to the music shop to escape the rain. The same clerk greeted the exasperated boy inside. The clerk peaked out the store’s front window, then checked his phone with the weather report. The rain would not stop for another half hour. The boy had no choice but to stay in the shop for that time. But eventually, the boy would come to find this unexpected excursion as a memory he would hold dear. The clerk walked into the back of the shop and brought back a towel for him. As the boy dried himself from the rain, the clerk looked inquiringly at him. The other boy finished with the towel and handed it back to the clerk. Then, he asked: “What instrument do you think would suit me?” The clerk thought for a moment. He shrugged. “I can't really say. Anyone can play any instrument they want, I guess”, he chuckled. The boy was somewhat shocked, as he had never provoked any form of positive response from another person. The clerk injected his thoughts eagerly, “I myself can demo the guitar for you, but that’s the only instrument I can play.” Once again, he found himself considering the possibility. Him? Playing the guitar? It could happen, he guessed. Then, his brother came to mind. What if his brother found out and started playing as well, he questioned. No, he wouldn't think about that now; he couldn't when this clerk was so ecstatic about this. “Please. I would greatly enjoy that,” the boy replied. The clerk’s eyes lit up, and he nodded in agreement. Then, the clerk went to the back of the shop once again with the towel and returned with a brilliant guitar, red in color, which glistened in the studio’s light. When he started to play the instrument, the audience of one felt his body fill with a strange sensation. The clerk’s playing was far from perfect, and even as someone with little musical experience, the boy knew that. Some of his notes sounded off. The tempo was uneven and inconsistent. Yet somehow this performance was making him feel something new he had never felt in his life. Something he had never experienced in any other activities in his life. This instrument, this playing… this was it! After he finished the song, the clerk wiped sweat off his forehead, then looked up to see the boy, entranced by his performance. The boy walked up to the clerk. He had lost his usually cool and collected mannerisms, in awe by the mediocre demonstration of this store clerk. “Let’s form a band,” the boy asked impulsively. He knew not how to play any instruments, nor did he believe he had the potential to be a vocalist. But he knew that he had to play with this clerk again. This was what he had always been looking for; that “thing” that could be his own. The clerk seemed just as in shock as the boy seemed startled by his own impetuousness. Still, the clerk could see the determination in this boy’s eyes. He had a sincere desire to play despite not knowing how to play a single instrument. And that determination was something he could admire. “Alright,” the clerk agreed, “but you don’t know how to play right? I guess I can teach you some of the basics. Although I wouldn't say I’m the best by any standards.” The boy’s eyes glistened with admiration. “Thank you…” the boy trailed off. “I’m Ren,” the clerk replied. “And you?” “Shin” the boy replied, “It’s a pleasure!” And so the boy had found someone he could call his own. He had made a new friend, he had found something new to do with himself that he could keep to himself. Through his trials and tribulations, he would eventually become a guitarist that even his brother wouldn't be able to compare to, and even if he did, their playing could never be the same. He had found what he had been searching for; he found his sound.
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Grafton Globe NewspaperStudent created articles in a student run digital newspaper. CategoriesArchives
February 2020
CategoriesHumans of Grafton High |