034→The Death of a God
This was just so amazingly written that I had to share it. :D
The pianist died. No one knew how. Some suspected foul play. Others suggested suicide. But one thing for certain was that the death of 23 year old Zachary Mortenbaum was far from normal. Not a scratch could be found on the body. No blood had been shed. The police could not find the murder weapon within the vicinity of the crime scene nor could they trace any unusual suspects. There was one thing however, that suggested that some extraneous factor had taken the young pianist's life; his pupils were gone.
An orchestral conductor who had once looked into the eyes of Zachary Mortenbaum exclaimed, "Those aren't the eyes of a man! They are of God!" And this was no mere adulation. Mortenbaum's eyes indeed had radiated with a god-like aura. His golden-brown irises and sharply defined eyebrows were reminiscent of Hermes. His affirmative and charming stage presence captivated audiences and critics around the world and captured the hearts of many aspiring young musicians. There had also been a rumor in which a beautiful violin student from Juliard fainted after throwing a cursory look into Mortenbaum's eyes. No one could corroborate that such incident had taken place, but the fact that Mortenbaum's possessed divine charisma and virtuosity remained incontrovertible until his death.
The dark circles where his pupils had once remained were now enveloped by the golden-brown irises. This made Mortenbaum look like a vampire. Yes, Mortenbaum did resemble a vampire in certain ways. He was handsome, but a bit gaunt and pale. His fingers were long and delicate and his jet black hair was always combed to the side so that his bangs fell mostly to the right-side of his face. When he played the piano, the whole world stood still. No one could ever play as beautifully as he could. Melodies would literally drip from his fingers as he commanded the Grand to submit to his will completely. He was only 4 when he gave his first public performance.
From then one, Mortenbaum appeared on every prestigious musical competition known to men. And won them all. His father worked little Mortenbaum to near death, forcing him to practice 18 hours a day, only allowing him to take breaks for meals. When the child begged his father for a respite, the cruel ma beat him savagely.
When Mortenbaum turned 14, the whole world knew that it had conceived the most brilliant pianist of the century. He was a regular at Carnegie Hall and performed with internationally renown orchestras including the Berliner Philharmoniker and the Chicago Symphony. Fame had made Mortenbaum a rich teenager. Yet his father appropriated the pianist's earnings and forced him to acquire even more well-playing venues.
At age 19, Mortenbaum recorded his 4th album, a Rachmaninoff piano concerto. It went on to become one of the best selling classical albums of all time. His father at the moment was a rich man himself, because he had completely drained the pianist of his savings.
Mortenbaum then decided that he had had enough with his father. He filed a lawsuit against his father for child abuse and theft. He won the case. As his father was dragged away from the court to start a new life in jail, he cursed his son, "You are nothing without me! I gave you that fucking piano! I gave you life! I gave you your whole fucking life and this is how you repay me?!"
Mortenbaum afterwards was so depressed that he cancelled his upcoming tour in Russia and retreated to his summer home in San Francisco. He then disappeared from the classical scene and remained reclusive for the next two years. No one knew what happened to him during this time. The police speculated that Mortenbaum began harboring suicidal thoughts at this time of his life when his existence became virtually evanescent.
But then he came back. A 23 year-old Mortenbaum came back on stage after two years of living as a recluse. His comeback concert at Carnegie Hall was a full house. His repertoire included Beethoven's 5th Piano Concerto and Shostakovich's Piano Concerto in C minor. When he finished playing, the crowd went wild. Mortenbaum was giving a standing ovation from nearly everybody in the hall. Shouts of "Bravo!" and "Encore!" refused to dissipate even after the pianist had left the stage for the night. Critics said that this concert was the highlight of Mortenbaum's career and that Mortenbaum was destined to lead the musical world to greatness and prosperity. However, Zachary Mortenbaum never had a chance to accept such honors. In two days, he was found dead in his apartment.
As a coroner, I can't say for sure just what exactly killed Zachary Mortenbaum. Maybe all the fame and renown was too much for him to handle. Or was it because his father's curse haunted him to death? Who knows. I for one thing, have never gone to a Mortenbaum concert before. I confess, i am a philistine when it comes to the arts. But is it really my fault? My parents never took me to a concert before, let along take me to a kiddie show. They would always tell me, "James, remember. Work always comes before play". And I've kept that promise since i was 5. Now I look at myself and realize that I'm just a coroner. And the young man I am examining was a god.
With the help of a colleague, I gently lifted the delicate frame of Zachary Mortenbaum from the carpeted floor and place him in the body bag. Then i took hold of the zipper and drew it slowly downwards. I watched as the zipper closed over the pale face of the divine pianist, forever covering those golden irises that had once mesmerized the world. Before the zipper clicked shut and sealed the body of the young god, I thought i saw his pupils reemerge. Then I thought, Look Jim, he's only a corpse. So I dismissed the fact that there was still some hope for the reincarnation of Zachary Mortenbaum. Although I had never been to any of his concerts, I felt a tinge of sadness as my colleague and I carried the bag on a stretcher and took the elevator to the lobby where the ambulance was waiting. My colleague got onto the vehicle first. He pulled the stretcher upwards as I held onto the back. The body bag was in place. I got on. The doors shut. Then the ambulance pulled off the driveway and we were off.
Disclaimer:
이민재 [Marshmallow Sundown For Crying Rabbits]
The pianist died. No one knew how. Some suspected foul play. Others suggested suicide. But one thing for certain was that the death of 23 year old Zachary Mortenbaum was far from normal. Not a scratch could be found on the body. No blood had been shed. The police could not find the murder weapon within the vicinity of the crime scene nor could they trace any unusual suspects. There was one thing however, that suggested that some extraneous factor had taken the young pianist's life; his pupils were gone.
An orchestral conductor who had once looked into the eyes of Zachary Mortenbaum exclaimed, "Those aren't the eyes of a man! They are of God!" And this was no mere adulation. Mortenbaum's eyes indeed had radiated with a god-like aura. His golden-brown irises and sharply defined eyebrows were reminiscent of Hermes. His affirmative and charming stage presence captivated audiences and critics around the world and captured the hearts of many aspiring young musicians. There had also been a rumor in which a beautiful violin student from Juliard fainted after throwing a cursory look into Mortenbaum's eyes. No one could corroborate that such incident had taken place, but the fact that Mortenbaum's possessed divine charisma and virtuosity remained incontrovertible until his death.
The dark circles where his pupils had once remained were now enveloped by the golden-brown irises. This made Mortenbaum look like a vampire. Yes, Mortenbaum did resemble a vampire in certain ways. He was handsome, but a bit gaunt and pale. His fingers were long and delicate and his jet black hair was always combed to the side so that his bangs fell mostly to the right-side of his face. When he played the piano, the whole world stood still. No one could ever play as beautifully as he could. Melodies would literally drip from his fingers as he commanded the Grand to submit to his will completely. He was only 4 when he gave his first public performance.
From then one, Mortenbaum appeared on every prestigious musical competition known to men. And won them all. His father worked little Mortenbaum to near death, forcing him to practice 18 hours a day, only allowing him to take breaks for meals. When the child begged his father for a respite, the cruel ma beat him savagely.
When Mortenbaum turned 14, the whole world knew that it had conceived the most brilliant pianist of the century. He was a regular at Carnegie Hall and performed with internationally renown orchestras including the Berliner Philharmoniker and the Chicago Symphony. Fame had made Mortenbaum a rich teenager. Yet his father appropriated the pianist's earnings and forced him to acquire even more well-playing venues.
At age 19, Mortenbaum recorded his 4th album, a Rachmaninoff piano concerto. It went on to become one of the best selling classical albums of all time. His father at the moment was a rich man himself, because he had completely drained the pianist of his savings.
Mortenbaum then decided that he had had enough with his father. He filed a lawsuit against his father for child abuse and theft. He won the case. As his father was dragged away from the court to start a new life in jail, he cursed his son, "You are nothing without me! I gave you that fucking piano! I gave you life! I gave you your whole fucking life and this is how you repay me?!"
Mortenbaum afterwards was so depressed that he cancelled his upcoming tour in Russia and retreated to his summer home in San Francisco. He then disappeared from the classical scene and remained reclusive for the next two years. No one knew what happened to him during this time. The police speculated that Mortenbaum began harboring suicidal thoughts at this time of his life when his existence became virtually evanescent.
But then he came back. A 23 year-old Mortenbaum came back on stage after two years of living as a recluse. His comeback concert at Carnegie Hall was a full house. His repertoire included Beethoven's 5th Piano Concerto and Shostakovich's Piano Concerto in C minor. When he finished playing, the crowd went wild. Mortenbaum was giving a standing ovation from nearly everybody in the hall. Shouts of "Bravo!" and "Encore!" refused to dissipate even after the pianist had left the stage for the night. Critics said that this concert was the highlight of Mortenbaum's career and that Mortenbaum was destined to lead the musical world to greatness and prosperity. However, Zachary Mortenbaum never had a chance to accept such honors. In two days, he was found dead in his apartment.
As a coroner, I can't say for sure just what exactly killed Zachary Mortenbaum. Maybe all the fame and renown was too much for him to handle. Or was it because his father's curse haunted him to death? Who knows. I for one thing, have never gone to a Mortenbaum concert before. I confess, i am a philistine when it comes to the arts. But is it really my fault? My parents never took me to a concert before, let along take me to a kiddie show. They would always tell me, "James, remember. Work always comes before play". And I've kept that promise since i was 5. Now I look at myself and realize that I'm just a coroner. And the young man I am examining was a god.
With the help of a colleague, I gently lifted the delicate frame of Zachary Mortenbaum from the carpeted floor and place him in the body bag. Then i took hold of the zipper and drew it slowly downwards. I watched as the zipper closed over the pale face of the divine pianist, forever covering those golden irises that had once mesmerized the world. Before the zipper clicked shut and sealed the body of the young god, I thought i saw his pupils reemerge. Then I thought, Look Jim, he's only a corpse. So I dismissed the fact that there was still some hope for the reincarnation of Zachary Mortenbaum. Although I had never been to any of his concerts, I felt a tinge of sadness as my colleague and I carried the bag on a stretcher and took the elevator to the lobby where the ambulance was waiting. My colleague got onto the vehicle first. He pulled the stretcher upwards as I held onto the back. The body bag was in place. I got on. The doors shut. Then the ambulance pulled off the driveway and we were off.
Disclaimer:
이민재 [Marshmallow Sundown For Crying Rabbits]