Colours return (Part 1)

The black of the night sky hides the bashful twinkling stars. I allow my brown irises to relax, enlarging my pupils - as black as the velvet blanket of the night sky.

With a mutter of a simple spell, I teleport myself to my intended destination. Gray and startled, the owl flutters away, hooting its displeasure.

"Nice spot, Asheroth," commented BenGarth as he too popped out of oblivion to perch beside me on the brown branch of the tallest tree on the green hill.

"Why on a tree?" BenGarth asked again.

I shrugged, uninterested in answering his question. He put his arms around my shoulder, and teleported us to an unfamiliar room. White walls, large windows, glass door. And I took notice of a black and roughly rectangular object. It was as tall as my height, an arms' length deep, and two arms' length wide. The front had a projection, as if a box was attached to the main body. And at the bottom, there were three brass protrutions which seemed like pedals.

BenGarth smiled, pulled a nearby bench, black like the unknown object. He sat down and gestured for me to come near. I stepped closer, and watched him lift cover off the box-projection, revealing a bright red silk cloth below. And he removed the red cloth, further revealing a great number of straight, small...

"Keys," BenGarth told me. "These things are called keys. You press on them."

Yes. Great number of keys. Black and white. Alternating with a certain pattern.

"What is this?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Without answering my query, he began to press on the keys, several at once with both hands. And a chord of the most beautiful sounding notes flooded my ears.

Oh, it's a musical instrument? I realized silently as BenGarth continued to play. And with every bit of dynamism he displayed through his skillful manipulation of the black-white keys, I felt my body sway. A strange stirring began in my heart, and I felt my heart thumping faster faster and faster. I began to sweat. I gulped as I began to feel hot. My fingers mirrored the vibrations of the instrument. Every note, chord. Overwhelming.

Overwhelmingly familiar.

BenGarth's playing gained volume. As he crescendoed, I developed a headache. I clutched my head, and tried to cover my ears.

"Cease this music!" I demanded. My cry was ignored; BenGarth was reaching the climax of his song and pressed on. I stumbled away from my friend and clumsily knocked over a chair. I collapsed to the floor, the headache rising with the wave of notes BenGarth was drumming out. I was in torment, and I began to scream in agony. Yet, the music droned on until the pain was finally too much to bear. My vision became brighter and brighter as a blinding spot of light appeared before my eyes.

I passed out.