Dissonance

“You may begin once you are ready.” 

Elliott’s fingers hovered above his clarinet keys, adrenaline surging through his body.  Many eyes pierced through him, as if he was a lamb sent off to slaughter. The hall was cold, the air piercing through the fabric of his suit which added to his anxiety. Not to mention, darkness blanketed his surroundings except for the eye straining stage lights. Though, that was the least of his worries— His only concern was to win at any means necessary.

Closing his eyes, he braced himself as he took a deep breath. His performance has begun. The piece he chose was meant to display his virtuosity and skill. At the same time, to express deep emotions. Every note, every rest, every breath, has a meaning— a purpose. To him, playing music was intentional.

Elliott’s fingers glide over his instrument gracefully, completely immersed in the music. Each run produced with poise, smoothness and speed. For a moment, he felt as though he was alone again in the comfort of his practice room. With no one to disturb him. 

The annual Winter Winds festival was an important competition for every wind player in the region. It was the prime opportunity for players to establish their name within the community. For Elliott, it meant to be the best player in the region. To receive the honour of being recognised by his peers.  Day and night he prepared himself. Endlessly and tirelessly. Practicing the same passages over and over again. Just to achieve what is the closest he could get to perfection.

It was obsession.

As he reached the last bar, Elliott finished off with a diminuendo. Creating a melancholy end to his performance. Elliott bowed to the judges and audience that gave him a resounding applause. “This is it!”  He was sure that he will clinch the top spot. His heart was full of certainty and hope that his hard work would come to fruition. Walking back, he saw him— Ivan Chen.

Ivan Chen was his junior of one year and is now making his way on stage as the next contestant. Ivan was no doubt a skilled player in his own right and Elliott knew that he would do well. This made his heart clench in some twisted form of jealousy. Jealousy that he knew was unjustified, disgusting even. But he couldn’ t help it, he could not stop himself from feeling envious towards his junior who seemed like he had the natural talent for his instrument. Something Elliott lacked and instead compensated by working harder until his lips bled. Someone younger than Elliott who could easily surpass him in leaps and bounds. 

Who wouldn’t feel envious?

The competition was over and Elliott was devastated. He won second place. He lost to Ivan Chen by one point. What the actual fuck?

Time passed slowly and Elliott had arrived to his dorm. His back slid down the door, hot tears streaming down his face. Hair gripped tightly in his hands as he let out sobs through gritted teeth. His face contorted and his mind was a flurry of emotions.It was evident that the turning point was near as desperation grew bigger.

Suddenly, he had reached a state of calm. As if the surge of thoughts in his mind had come to a standstill. As if the delirium that plagued his mind had finally concluded itself. It was then he remembered something—something ridiculous and borderline pathetic.

Elliott recalled the post he found online that described a way to summon a demon in order to make deals with them. The user wrote that the person must draw a summoning circle using their own blood drawn from the wrist of their dominant hand. After which they would need to chant a set of mantras to call for the entity.

In a swift and frantic motion, Elliott rummaged through his drawers to find a pair of scissors. His right hand trembled as he blade made contact with the flesh of his left wrist. The icy-cold metal pierced into his skin. It was cold, just like the reality of being second place in something that you thought you were good at. Except, the blade piercing into his flesh hurt less.

White hot pain seared through his limb but he made the tough decision to keep still while he dug the blade deeper. Elliott then swiped his index and middle finger against his left wrist gingerly and made the summoning circle on the floor with his own blood.

Elliott knelt in front of the circle and whispered the chant. Almost as if pleading for this horrific entity to visit him. He sounded like a madman. All he could do was hope and  even pray that this wasn’t a hoax. Grasping at the smallest probability that this may be true. Whatever he must do to redeem himself, he will do it. It was either be the best or be nobody at all. 

“Please, please, please, please, please.”  

It was silent. Only the droning of the ceiling fan could be heard, accompanied by the flickering of the fluorescent lights above him. Above all, was the muttering and brief sobs of anguish. Creating their own cruel symphony.