Matthew did not know that the little black blobs and lines before him belonged to the language of sound. He sat on the leather bench of what he did not realize was a piano, for it had been locked up for years. Only moments before, an owl had swooped through the window, landing on top of the imprisoned piano. It hooted at him, staring deeply into his eyes. Matthew watched the creature as it moved and its talons clicked across the wooden surface.
Suddenly, the owl ruffled its feathers, causing some pieces of paper to fall out of its wings. Matthew’s eyes widened. He reached for the papers.
“What is this?!” he said to the empty room around him. Matthew studied the pages, covered in symbols he had never seen before. Lines, dots, and dots with lines ran across the paper. Matthew raised an eyebrow.
“What does this mean, owl? I don’t know what these markings are. What are you trying to tell me, huh?”
The owl tilted its head to one side, almost as if he was listening or somehow concerned about Matthew. Then, in a great flurry of feathers, the owl flew across the room.
“Whoah!” Matthew said, covering his head with his hands.
Circling back, the owl landed on the bench right next to Matthew. Matthew dared not move. He tried to quiet his breathing, so the owl wouldn’t be cued into his fear. But the owl stared up at Matthew, unmoving.
“Uhh...hi, owl.” He slowly lifted his hand into the air, keeping his eyes on the owl the entire time. Since the owl continued to sit motionless beside him, Matthew lowered his hand to pet the owl. To his relief, it did not try to bite him. As he ran his fingers through the owl’s feathers, little sounds emerged from it, almost as if he were purring. Matthew smiled. Then, the owl turned around to face two large, shiny devices hanging off of the piano: locks. The owl fluttered over to one of them, placing his talons in between the chain links. Then, he hooked his beak around one of the chain links, tighter and tighter, until suddenly, the whole chain snapped and the lock clattered to the floor. The owl flew over to the other lock and soon, it too, fell.
“How did you do that?!” Matthew said, staring at the owl. The owl tilted its head to one side. Matthew studied the piano.
“What is this thing?” Matthew said, running his fingers across the curved, smooth surface of the keylid. He moved his hands to the bottom of it and lifted, revealing the ivory keys of a grand piano.
“Wow…” He said, as he gazed at the device before him. He reached out his hand and soon, a sound he had never heard before filled the room: middle C. He opened his mouth wide and stared at the owl, who had flown over to the living room table, watching Matthew discover something that had not been heard for years. He played an E, then an A.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps descended the staircase.
“Matthew Perry Montgomery!! What on earth is going on down there?!”
Matthew’s eyes widened. He slammed the keylid shut and ran to the kitchen.
“Matthew Montgomery, just WHAT do you think you are doing?” Ava Marie, his mother, said.
“What do you mean, Mom? I was just down here, getting a snack,” Matthew said.
His mother pushed past him, into the living room. Her eyes moved to the piano, where the broken locks sat silently on the floor.
“MATTHEW PERRY MONTGOMERY, YOU ARE GROUNDED! Do you have ANY IDEA about the kind of trouble you could get us in?!”
“But Mom, what do you mean?! It isn’t my fault! This owl flew in and--”
“Matthew, WHAT are you talking about?! We are the only ones here. Now, go to your room. Just wait until your father comes home. We’ll be lucky if the police don’t get involved!”
“Police?! But Mom…”
“No buts, just go to your room,” Ava Montgomery said.
Before he could say anything else, his mother escorted Matthew to his room and closed the door behind him. Inside, perched on his bedpost, was the owl. Matthew sunk into his bed.
“Look at the mess you got me into,” Matthew said to the owl. The owl hooted, then ruffled his feathers, causing the papers from before to fall out once again. He picked them off of his comforter and studied them.
“What do these markings mean?” he said. As he held the papers in his hands and turned them over, he noticed that one of the papers had a note on the back.
These are the last remaining pieces of sheet music in the country.
Please guard them with your life. If anyone finds you with these or hears you
playing an instrument, they will throw you in jail or execute you on the spot.
You must learn to decipher these pages -- they are the keys
To understanding the language of sound. If you get stuck,
Ask the owl. He will help you.
Be safe and remember: don’t tell anyone about this!
-The Last Musician
Matthew’s brows knitted in confusion. Music. An owl. Illegal. How could any of this be? Suddenly, through his bedroom window, the sound of sirens reached Matthew’s ears and he caught the reflection of red and blue lights outside.
“Oh no,” Matthew said. “We gotta go. Come on, owl!” But when Matthew looked for the owl, he was nowhere to be seen.
“Ugh! Owl, where are you?!” he said, searching the room, ducking his head to look under furniture. And then, under the back corner of his bed, the glowing eyes of the owl appeared in the darkness.
“Owl, this is no time to hide! We need to go!!” But as Matthew was about to turn away and try to escape out his window, he heard the creaking sound of a hinge turning. The owl had opened a trap door underneath his bed!
“Get in,” the owl said. Matthew, mouth gaping from hearing an owl speak for the first time, could not move. The sound of the policemen and their radios grew louder, but still Matthew was frozen in place.
The owl sighed. “Fine,” he said, flying out from under the bed, he caught his talons on Matthew’s shirt, and dragged him toward the trap door. Matthew screamed. Still, the owl pulled Matthew into the trapdoor, grabbed the metal clasp, and shut them in, just as the sound of policemen entering the house resounded behind them.
Very interesting! Loved it!
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