Key Change

Chapter 1 The Backstory

          ​It was one of my favorite breezy summer days in the city of Dremwell when I discovered my secret. My mother I had just moved into our new row house, and  I was thirteen years of age. Row houses are commonly described as homey feeling and picturesque, living right near seven other families in a huge building filed with several condo like houses. And it really is good, in theory. I realized the moment we were completely moved in, that it wasn’t going to be as great as I thought it would be. What’s described as “near" really means smooshed. Everyone is so close; you can hear conversations through the wall. For example, My first breakfast.

I was sitting downstairs, minding my own business when I heard the screaming. At first, I panicked. Having come from the big city, I was somewhat accustomed to the prospect of break ins, murders and whatnot. But then, I heard the rest of the conversation.

“IF YOU THINK I’M GOING TO STAND FOR SUCH FOOLISHNESS, THEN YOU CAN GO AND FIND YOUR OWN HOUSE. I WILL NOT HAVE MY REPUTATION TARNISHED.” A man’s voice screamed to who I would soon know to be Mallory, his mother, and one of my future best friends. I was pretty shocked to hear a grown man so crazed just because of his "reputation" so I kept listening. Unfortunately for me, the man stopped screaming. I quickly rushed to the wall and slammed my ear against it, hoping to hear at least why the man was so angry.

"Now, Matthew Blake Richter." An old woman's voice said in response. "I don't care how powerful you are in society, how many people you have working for you, or what stress you're under. I am your mother. And you can't keep me from humming to myself." She sniffed.

"You may be my mother, but you don't act like one. A real mother would want me to be looked at with respect. And you know that I'll look like a fool if the town finds out that my own mother is...a music enthusiast." He spat out the word music like it was a disease. I cringed. "What was this guy's problem?!"

You see, back then, I didn't really know the ropes of Dremwell. And hearing this, I figured it was just some psycho that had absolutely no musical ability and hated all music because of it or something, but as I have found in my two years in Dremwell since, that wasn't the case. Now music isn't outlawed or anything like that, it's more like an unspoken law...Something fairly obvious. No one has any part in it, and that's just what is. It wasn't questioned, and no one had ever thought otherwise before me. Well if anyone had, I didn't know it because they didn't speak out. That  I definitely was the first for, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I called my mother, and closest friend down and told her the whole story of what I had heard.

"He's probably just having a bad day." She sighed as she sat down beside me at our table.

"Mom, it's eight in the morning, how could he possibly have already had a bad day?" I chuckled.

"Well he could have gone to get a bowl of cereal and found his milk was rotten! As is ours..." Mother sighed.

"Yeah, that's it."

At that moment, there was a knock on our door.

"Our first visitor!" My mother exclaimed, leapt up from her chair and ran to the door. In the doorway appeared a rather tall man with prim and proper brown hair parted to the side. He wore a navy blue suit with a purple tie.  He looked, to say it plain and simple, like a business man. He stepped inside without being invited, as if he knew that he would be invited at some point and shut the door behind him.

"Hello, you must be the Watsons." He said in a velvety smooth voice that was oddly familiar. I was starting to be a little freaked out. How did this business creep know who we were? I started to rise from my chair to run, grab our phone and call the cops, when he finally introduced himself.

"Oh excuse my impromptness. Let me introduce myself, I am Matthew Richter, Dremwell's one and only mayor. And may I personally say, welcome." That's when it hit me, he was the screaming man from earlier on. That's why he cared about his reputation so much. And that's when something else hit me. Not liking music wasn't something just one guy thought either, it must be the whole town. No matter how odd that sounded, I knew I would have to follow the crowd. Since everyone knows, if you can't beat them, join them. I knew I couldn't beat them. Music wan't that big a part in my life anyways...

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Later that day, my mother told me to bring the last of our Winter decor for the house up to the attic. I sighed, a bit annoyed and to be honest, nervous. I had never been one to like dark, damp places, and the attics I had had in the past were no exceptions. But I had never been in the attic before, so I mustered up what little courage I contained, and trudged up the long staircase. Once at the top, I looked the place over. Since there was a huge window on one wall, it was extremely well lit, and for some reason, it didn't feel eerie. I was amazed with how nice our new attic was and raced to the window to check out the view. Once there, I saw it.

It was stuffed tightly into the corner, all alone and unwanted. A rusty and dusty keyboard. When I cautiously pressed a key, I swear it creaked. All in all, it looked like a hopeless soul, desperate for attention. I bit my lip. I had to admit, I felt sorry for the poor thing. It looked like it hadn't been played in decades. But I couldn't...could I? I argued with myself. It could ruin our reputation...but since when do I care about reputation? Finally, I bent down, lifted my new friend up and went downstairs, ready to give it a new home. Little did I know, what surprises we would have in store for each other.

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