1 Moonlight Sonata
//Best read while listening to 'Moonlight sonata 1st' on repeat//
It's burning for me, and I am burned by everyone. Such a complex relationship.
Victor gazed at the small light on the tip of his cigarette, its smoke wafting through the air, shrouding his face. Darkness cloaked the room; not even the moonlight pierced through.
"You and I, cigarette, we'll stay bound together, never abandoning each other. Sharing both the bright and the bleak, just as we always have."
After the cigarette had burned out for him, he drew back the window covers, allowing a faint glimmer of moonlight to seep in. Seating himself on a small stool tucked into a corner of his weathered room, he retrieved a candle from the piano's cover, lit it, and returned it to its place.
The gentle glow of the candle and the moonlight revealed the keys before him.
"I hope this won't rouse my neighbors," he pondered.
The keys were set into motion, the slightly out of tune piano producing intricate notes that hung in the air, saturated with melancholy.
Victor's approach to playing was peculiar. He would begin by pressing the keys lightly, coaxing forth soft melodies. Then, with great force, he would resonate it through his cramped space.
The piece at hand was the "Moonlight Sonata 1st Movement."
It was the very first piece he learned when he started playing the piano. It resonated with him in ways words couldn't capture.
With few friends and a strained family relationship, he turned to this piece every night for solace.
After the mesmerizing performance, he extinguished the candle's flame. He then moved the stool to the window, allowing the radiant moonlight to spill onto him. As he sat down his gaze drifted skyward, lost in the beauty before him.
Tonight's moon held a special significance. It was a super blue moon, a celestial rarity gracing the skies only once every 20-30 years. While some dismissed it or opted to document it through video or photos, Victor understood its true value. The moon's luminance painted the world gray, creating an almost mythical atmosphere that transcended the ordinary night. Stars paled in comparison to the moon's majestic presence. In this instant, Victor sensed an indescribable connection, a profound link to the universe.
It was then, weariness overtaking him, that Victor succumbed to slumber. He remained seated, his head cradled in his crossed arms, which rested against the window's frame.
Knock knock
"Wh- Who is it?" Victor mumbled, caught between sleep and wakefulness, his voice tinged with confusion.
Knock knock knock
His eyes, half-closed, snapped open as realization dawned. I live alone...
Victor swiftly raised his head, eyes scanning the night. The moon, once a luminous orb, had diminished, now just a faint glimmer, slightly larger than a star. Below it, an unfamiliar landscape.
There were gas lamps that illuminated the cobbled streets with their warm light, revealing the intricate patterns of worn stones.
A few horse drawn carriages moved down the old road, their wooden wheels making a noisy clatter. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on cobblestone echoed in the stillness, creating a haunting melody that hung in the air.
Victor's heart raced as he gazed at the mysterious scene. The air was filled with an unspoken sense of wonder. It felt like he had stepped into another time and place. The unfamiliar surroundings stretched out in front of him, both captivating and enigmatic. Weathered buildings stood tall, adorned with intricate ironwork and stone carvings, illuminated by the gentle glow of gas lamps.
"Where am I?" Asked Victor in both astonishment and worry.
Creak
The door creaked open, revealing a tall figure in a crisp white shirt and refined trousers. His brown hair was neatly combed, and his kind, deep brown eyes exuded warmth. A man in his mid-twenties.
Approaching Victor, he asked, "What's troubling you? Are you alright?"
Victor, engulfed in confusion, searched for an answer. He knew only that he was in an unfamiliar world, a place with a small moon and streets reminiscent of the Victorian era.
I don't know what to answer. Who even is that person? I guess I'll just say I'm alright.
"I'm alright."
"You don't need to bury yourself in books all the time. Don't push yourself too hard" advised the stranger.
"Alright."
With that, the figure exited and gently shut the door. Victor's surroundings looked nothing like his earthly room. It was a world apart.
In one corner stood an ornate wooden desk, decorated with exquisite patterns. A small gas lamp cast a warm glow, illuminating scattered papers and books.
Opposite, a neatly arranged bed with intricate designs graced the room. Above, the ceiling was a masterpiece, a testament to the meticulous effort poured into it. It looked like a renaissance painting.
Next to the bed stood a mirror. As Victor approached, he saw his altered reflection. He no longer recognized himself; it was as if he faced a stranger.
His slightly voluminous, impeccably black hair framed striking gray eyes. He wore a finely tailored dark gray suit, its collar a contrasting light gray.
What the f*ck
Is this.. Me?
Am I still dreaming?
With that thought, he pinched his cheek hard, leaving a faint red mark and experiencing a jolt of pain.
No, I'm not dreaming. Maybe I died? No no no, that's impossible. I remember falling asleep on the window frame.
Suddenly, his eyes started turning pure white. A sharp headache struck, and he collapsed onto his bed, entering a strange, dream-like state where illusionary scenes appeared before him.
Images of the previous owner of this body - his memories. Victor learned his name was Lucian Wright. A young man of 20, deeply interested in mysticism, and a devout follower of the God of Sun, the prevailing religion in the kingdom of Valoria.
Lucian hailed from a middle-class family. His father had died defending Valoria's borders just a few years after Lucian's birth. He had a brother named Henry, and they were raised by their mother, who unfortunately passed away six years ago due to illness.
Now, it became clear. The person who had knocked on his door was his brother, Henry aged 26.
A flood of other memories surged in the form of illusionary images, moving so fast that Victor couldn't quite grasp them.
Crack Crack
The illusionary memories began to fracture, and Victor regained consciousness, lying on his bed.
Phew
Victor exhaled, sat up straight and began thinking.
That was an odd experience. It seems I've somehow ended up in an alternate world inhabiting this young man's body, and regaining some of his memories.
Drawing from his extensive knowledge of history in his former world, he compared the two.
From what I can gather, there's no sign of electricity, the city relies on gas for power. And the transportation system is rather 'primitive'. This seems akin to the 1800s in the real world.
After a period of contemplation, he reached a decision.
I'll have to play the role of Lucian Wright to avoid suspicion and find out more about this world.
Especially regarding the dream-like reality in which I've relived some of his memories, no, my memories.
Lucian sat up, making his way to the desk on the opposite side of the room. He settled into the dark wooden chair, its backrest adorned with beautiful carvings.
On the cluttered desk lay an assortment of papers and books, some closed, others open, hinting at Lucian's extensive research. The hardcovers were bound in leather, their titles engraved and painted in either white or gold.
Initially, the language seemed foreign to Lucian, but with some reflection, he recalled two vivid images from his dream-like state.
One depicted the fundamentals of Sulorian, a language that thrived in the kingdom of Valoria. Legend has it that it traced back to the era when the Sun God walked the earth, nearly 3000 years ago.
The second image portrayed the town called Winslow. Located in the northeastern reaches of the Valorian kingdom, it shares borders with the neighboring kingdom of Luna. Seventeen years prior, a conflict had erupted between the two kingdoms, escalating into a small war. Luna's forces had launched an assault on the borders, seeking territorial dominance. Yet, aided by Valoria's swift acting military, they repelled the advance and maintained their ground for several years until Luna sought a truce. Lucian's mother had recounted this tale to him when he was a child, narrating the story of Winslow and the patriarchy of their father that had bolstered the kingdom.
I remember...
