THE CHARACTERS AND SETTINGS ARE THE WORKS OF AN ORIGINAL FICTION.
Immortality: Tales of the Undead- The Curse of the Black Violin
In the heart of Germany, Mike Reinhart had arrived at Frankfurt, to perform his latest piece of music on stage. He had the heart, and desire to do something like any dreamer, who have never done it before. But it was hard work. His American teacher had taught him the basics of playing the violin. He had come to the conclusion that being a violinist was a dream to him.
However, Mike's mother never liked the idea of her son becoming a violinist. She had said to him, "Why don't you become a doctor, instead? Your brother became one." But Mike said this to her, "No, mother. Not everyone wants to become a doctor. Not even me. I've always wanted to be a violinist." And it was just that. He had taken lessons from his American teacher named Andrew Peterson. Andrew used to be like Mike, always aiming for the dream, which later became hard to reach it nowadays. In this day and age, most students would rather play music as a career than a hobby. Most of Andrew's past students became successful, and had traveled aboard to foreign countries in order to play on stage, including Germany.
Now that Mike was here, he waited for the cab driver to pick him up. An Italian musician named Anton Vesachelli, who had lived in Germany for quite a number of years, received a letter from Mike himself. The letter read this,
Dear Mr. Vesachelli,
I am a young musician at heart. I desire to play my utmost piece in the upcoming stage of the opera. Please, allow me to show you what I can do for you. I have a recorded video, that I have sent the package along with this letter. Please watch it, and see what you think.
Yours sincerely,
Mike Reinhart
Anton had read the letter alright, and then chuckled to himself. This young man is serious. I must see this video. And, he did just that. Anton played the tape on a cassette player, which showed the 20-year old, Mike Reinhart, playing the violin. It was both beautiful and breathtaking at the same time. Anton had never seen a young man like him, could play outstanding music at his age.
He stopped playing the tape, and replied the letter back to the young man of immense talent. When Mike had received the letter, he was astonished that Anton was happy with the results of his music. The letter read this,
Dear Mr. Reinhart,
You're a talented young man. I assure you, I will see to it that you play at the grand opera. But you must know that there are several contestants, vying for attention. One has to win the contest, and earn a trip to other countries to play music further. Please, do come and let me know about the necessary arrangements. I'll see to it.
Yours sincerely,
Anton Vesachelli
Mike couldn't wait to see the Italian man himself. He had learned that Anton played at the age of 10, who had mastered the arts of violin music. It was a spectacular event for the young boy, who had then become that man, and achieved success throughout history. Now, he was the stage owner of an opera theater, representing the music from other countries. Anyone who had the natural talent for music, was invited to play at the opera itself. This time, the violinists have come to participate in their grand scheme of their own artistry. A grand finale to some, and to others as well. Mike usually had the jitters to play his violin in public. There was one time, that he stopped playing at the school rehearsal, when the tune went out of sync, and that Andrew had said to Mike, "Let the blood flow, Mike. Don't think of anything else. Imagine yourself in a park." And yes, Mike did just that. He gradually learned to imagine things in his own way, closing his eyes, and not to bother with the public, who had stared at him. It was one time only, and he couldn't have another chance to play again. Failure was not an option for Mike Reinhart.
When Mike finally arrived at the stage company, the driver helped him to take out the violin case from the back of the car. Mike paid him the money, and the cab driver left. He stared at the stage company for a while. It looked quite big, like almost a tall building that he had seen back in America. Ever since his father was born in Germany, he had the intentions to play music, when he was a child. But sadly, it didn't work out for him. He decided to come to America to look for a decent job; one that could earn money by himself. He had worked as a steel factory assistant and earned his way throughout a few years, until one day, he married an American.
Mike never thought he would come to his father's country. Although Germany was a beautiful place, he was quite worried of getting lost somewhere in the process, not knowing where to look for guidance, or whom to speak to. It was one thing that Mike had been worried about, all along, even before he came here.
However, Mike had help from the Italian musician himself. Anton came towards him, and greeted the young man. "Hello, Mike. It's so good to see you."
"It's good to see you, sir," Mike said.
Anton laughed. "Oh, don't call me that. Everyone calls me just Anton. Just because I'm the teacher here, it doesn't mean... Well... I used to be a teacher once, but I wasn't very good at it. You see, I liked to oversee the operations of the stage company, which I currently own at this crucial point. As you can see..." Mike saw it alright. Inside the company, it was huge likewise as seen most televisions in an ordinary household. He saw a few ballerina dancers walking down the hallway. The other musicians prepared themselves for their upcoming practice. It wasn't easy for Mike, and he knew that if he failed this time, he would have to go back to America, hoping that he could find another way to continue playing his violin, despite his mother's protests. But if he wins, he could play it anywhere in the world. In fact, he could also be rich.
"Now..." Anton said, breaking Mike's thought. "I shall see you to your room. Come this way." Mike followed him. It was like a tour that he had not taken upon in his entire life. However, Anton said, "I'll show you the tour later. But first, we must get prepared for the rehearsal the next day." He looked at the young man. "I do hope you're not nervous, because I have known some contestants had jitters, and gradually, they couldn't play very well. It's the one thing that I wouldn't want to see, you know?"
"Yes, I understand... Anton," Mike was going to say "sir" like he did to his American teacher. But Andrew had said, "Just call my name, Mike. I'm fine with that."
While walking down the hallway, a young French man just arrived upstairs from his own room. He saw Anton bringing another contestant with him.
"Hello Monsieur," the French man said. Both Anton and Mike stopped on the stairs.
Anton looked at Mike, and introduced, "Ah, this is Mike Reinhart. Mike, this is Jean Lettiere. He's also a famous musician, and had won several contests to boot. Wouldn't you say, Jean?"
"Yes, indeed," Jean agreed. "I must say that you look fabulous." He was actually talking to Mike, and then stared at the violin case. "Are you that good?"
"Yes..." Mike said slowly. "I'm good. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Jean."
"Kiss my hand, Mike," Jean said out of nowhere. "I really do appreciate it."
Mike stared at him, and then blinked. He looked towards the stage owner for help. Anton whispered, "Just kiss his hand. For him, it's a good luck charm. He does that to everyone."
"Really?" Mike was astonished to hear such a strange thing. Anton nodded.
Mike sighed. He took the French musician's hand, and then kissed it.
"There..." Jean said, feeling satisfied. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" He looked upstairs to see that his Japanese friend, Hito Misaki was also arriving from the same room, that Jean currently shared with.
"Ah Hito!" Jean said excitingly. "You are here. Listen Hito... We have a new young man, and his name is Mike Reinhart. Mike, this is my dearest friend, Hito Misaki."
Hito bowed down. "It is nice to meet you, Mike."
Mike bowed back. Of course, this was a polite gesture to say hello to a Japanese man. But in this case, he didn't have to do it.
"Well now..." Anton said. "I must show Mike to his new room. If you allow me..." Then he turned towards Jean.
"Sure..." Jean said. "And Mike?"
"Yes?" Mike said, hoping that he didn't have to kiss the French man's hand again.
"If you have free time, come and join us. We can get to know each other. I assure you, it'll be wonderful."
Hito looked at him, and then shook his head. "Jean... He just got here."
"Yes, I know that." Jean rolled his eyes. "Oh well. I will see you later, Mike." Then he blew out a kiss to him. "Ta-Ta!" Both Jean and Hito walked downstairs.
"Um..." Mike said uncomfortably. "See you later."
He followed Anton, and after a moment of silence, he said, "Anton... What was that all about?"
"Oh, you don't need to worry, Mike. It's just that these days Jean can be... a little bit playful sometimes. He likes it that way, I suppose."
"Okay..." Mike said. He still wasn't sure what Anton was talking about, but gave himself a shrug, and moved on.
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Mike looked around his new room. It felt like that he was in the hotel a long time ago, when his parents went out for a honeymoon. In this case, Mike had come here to perform the music for the audience. Anton stood there, watching the young man with adoration.
"What do you think?" Anton asked. "Is it good? I used to remember coming to this place for the first time. I was a young child back then. Such good old memories..."
Mike didn't seem to listen to him. He put down his backpack, and the violin case beside the bed. It was a single bedroom. But he heard that this place had most of the double-bed rooms for only two people. In fact, he felt relieved to stay alone in this room, so he could concentrate playing his music.
"I like it," Mike said. "So... the rehearsal is only for a week?"
"Yes," Anton replied. "In fact, many young people who have come here, must practice. I had a young man, who can barely play the violin at all. He said that he needed a teacher. So, I taught him the basics."
"Ah, I see," Mike said with wonder. "How did that turn out?"
"Well... It did turn well. He was getting better at it. But I reminded him that it was only a contest. Nothing more than that. There are places that he could be taught of the violin. You know?"
"Yes, I know." Mike was glad that Andrew taught him back in college. It was one thing that he could never forget. However...
"Listen..." Anton said. "I need to go and see how the other youngsters are doing. Make yourself comfortable. Tomorrow morning, we shall start the practice."
"Yes, I'll be ready."
"Good. Good." Anton rubbed his hands. "And by the way, I forgot to mention the food here. There's a cafeteria downstairs. If you just go down, and then turn to your right, you'll find it. If you're hungry, come and help yourself."
"Ah yes..." Mike remembered that he hadn't eaten much lately. "In fact, I'm really hungry."
Anton laughed. "Yes, one has to eat and play music. That's how it goes, I guess. But to tell you the truth, I heard that Jean had put himself on a strict diet. He had never eaten much."
"I see." Mike wished that Anton hadn't talked about him.
As if taken by a hint, Anton said, "I can understand why you don't like him, but don't worry. It's only a matter of time, when one has to get along, and forget the strangeness coming from a certain individual like Jean."
"Um... I don't mean to be rude, Anton. But... he makes me feel very uncomfortable. And yes, he is strange."
"That's okay. I can see it in your eyes. You're a good man, Mike. I can tell you that. But if anything goes wrong, let me know. I'll see to it."
"Yes, thank you."
"Alright," Anton said. "I'll be going now. See you tomorrow morning." He left Mike alone in the room.
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It was a dark, and lonely night. But not as lonely that Mike could remember. He felt strong arms, stroking his skin. He knew who it was, and didn't want to know. In this day and age, lovers were never meant to be together, especially between a teacher and his student. How could Mike have done such a thing? How could he allow himself brought into the arms of his own music teacher. Andrew had fallen in love with Mike during those college years, and that Mike couldn't forget it. But their love was forbidden, and not even his parents knew about it.
"What's the matter, Mike?" Andrew said, sensing that something was wrong with his student. He could tell by the expression on his face. Mike didn't say anything. He was lying naked with his teacher at home. He came to Andrew's home to practice the violin. But the evening had turned out to be rather romantic, and then erotic. It wasn't something that Mike could endure the temptations of an American man. Although Mike was born an American citizen, he had the German heritage within him. Yes, Mike was homosexual. But sleeping with the teacher could land himself, and Andrew in trouble. Mike could lose his scholarship for this forbidden behavior, and thus get kicked out of college. Not to mention, Andrew losing his career as a music teacher.
"Andrew..." Mike said slowly. "I have to go home."
"Mike, what's the matter? What's wrong?"
"This is wrong," Mike said, getting up from the bed. He put his clothes back on.
Andrew got up too. "Come on, Mike. I love you. Don't you know that?"
Mike didn't say anything.
"Listen... Nobody has to know, Mike. Not even your parents. I'll see to it, okay? I know it's not easy."
"No, Andrew," Mike countered. "I can't do this anymore. I... I just can't."
"Mike... Please, don't leave. It's late. Just come and sleep, okay? Just for one night."
"No, Andrew. I am going... Now!" Mike left the room.
"Mike!" Andrew called out to him. "MIKE!"
"MIKE! HELLO!" There were several, loud knocks on the door. "MIKE!" The young German suddenly woke up, and realized it was morning. He just couldn't believe it. He stared at the clock, and the time read, 9:00 am. He was supposed to wake up at 8:00 before the rehearsal started at 9:00. Jesus Christ!
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Mike was trying to get dressed. But he slipped on the floor, not realizing what he was really doing. It was worst enough that he just had that same dream, over and over again. Mike got up, walked toward the door, and then opened it. It was Hito Misaki.
"Hito?" Mike said. "Oh hello. I'm sorry. I... I think I must have overslept."
"Okay..." Hito said. "Anton and the others are still waiting. I've been sent to get you. Just freshen up, and come."
"Okay, I'll be down there." My God!
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Later, Mike rushed down, trying to look for some reflection, so he couldn't appear himself bad. Although it was bad enough to arrive late at the first practice session, it sounded insane. Mike thought that Anton would be disappointed in him. But when he came inside the auditorium, Anton just smiled.
"Ah, there he is!" Anton raised his voice. The others looked at Mike. They didn't say anything. Not even Jean Letteire.
"I'm sorry, Anton," Mike said. "I..." He tried to think of an excuse. "I must have practiced hard last night. You know?"
"Ah yes," Anton said. "I was just like you once. But practicing too much is bad, Mike. You should know this by now. You need to learn how to relax and let your mind free for a while. I have always taught my students that way. How's the saying goes? Patience is a virtue."
"Yes, right," Mike said. Andrew did say the same thing.
"Alright," Anton said, clapping his hands. "Let's get on with it." Every student took out their violins, and played their own music. Yes, it was refreshing to hear such music, coming from the talented, young people at heart. But Mike had a hard time, concentrating his own piece. He closed his eyes, and imagined himself in the park, playing the violin. Everyone looked at him.
But then he stopped. The tune was out of sync. Anton had noticed this error. He came towards Mike, and said in a whisper, "Mike, are you alright? You seem to be nervous."
"No, I'm not nervous," Mike said. "I know I can do this."
"Don't push yourself," Anton said. "This is what happens to some of my students back then. They have pushed themselves too hard. You need to relax. I know you have come late. That's fine. But let me remind you that you shouldn't stay up late, playing the violin. You have free time to do it in the morning, and the afternoon. This is why you're here, Mike. Understand?"
"Yes, I understand." Mike said.
"Look, why don't you take a rest? You can go back to your room, and come later. I should have thought of this sooner, when one comes late. You'll have to make up for the lost time. Have you eaten your breakfast?"
"No, I haven't eaten yet."
"Ah, I see. Then, you better get something to eat. Rest for a while, and then come. I'll be waiting for you."
"Alright," Mike said. "I'll do that. Thank you."
Anton smiled, and went over to see how the other participants were doing. Mike left the auditorium.
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Mike came back to the auditorium, and found himself alone. He was looking for Anton, and called out to him. But Anton wasn't there. No matter. Mike took out his violin, and decided to play it, while he waited for the former Italian musician. Mike closed his eyes, and imagined himself in the park. This was the place, where his father used to take him to play rides, and have fun with the other kids. It was a cherishing moment for Mike himself. Now that, his father had passed way, he couldn't allow the pain to prevent his dream from coming true. His father had said, "My son, never give up your dreams. Because I had given up music a long time ago. I guess you could say that I wasn't much into it. But I know you can do it, son. That teacher of yours... Is he teaching you well?"
"Yes, father," Mike said. His father had been on his death bed, ever since he was diagnosed with brain tumor. Mike wanted to tell everything to his father, regarding the forbidden relationship. But he felt ashamed of the fact, that his father would be truly disappointed in him. Mike didn't want that.
I am sorry, father, Mike thought on that fateful day. If I had told you, you wouldn't be happy to hear it. It would have been too painful for you. But his father knew something had happened, even though Mike hadn't said anything about it.
As Mike was still playing his violin, Anton finally entered the auditorium. He just stood there, even without Mike knowing his presence. Anton was the man, who always adored his students and their music. But not many students would know, what Anton had really thought about. He admired Mike's posture and confidence. His strong music had been played within the confines of the auditorium. Anton imagined the young man playing the violin, naked.
But Mike stopped, and saw Anton standing there. "Oh, you are here. I didn't know."
"That's okay," Anton said. "Continue playing. You're good."
"Oh... Okay." Mike continued playing his tune. Anton closed his eyes. But Mike suddenly went out of sync to his violin, again. Anton opened them, and walked down closer towards him. "Here, let me help you." Mike didn't know what to say, but he allowed the stage owner to assist him, and correct the tune of the violin itself. Anton helped Mike's hands lower down the stick, and let it hit the strings in a magnificent way. It sounded beautiful.
"Let the blood flow," Anton said, closer toward Mike's ear. Mike was now feeling uncomfortable. But when he played the music, it was refreshing. Anton was the master of the music arts. He knew what he was doing. But when Anton was about to kiss Mike's cheek. Mike said, 'Anton... What are you doing?" He even tried to move away from him. But Anton didn't seem to allow him. Mike said again, " ANTON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Anton finally came back to his senses. He just stood there, watching Mike, who was still shouting angrily, and then accidentally dropped his violin on the floor. It crashed.
"Oh my God!" Mike thought wildly. "My violin!"
Anton said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Mike. I didn't know what came over me. I... I am truly sorry."
"You... You broke my violin!"
"Me?" Anton said, confused. "But I didn't... Look, Mike. I can find a replacement for you. You can have mine."
"No!" Mike raised his voice. "I'll find another one myself." He took the broken violin, and stared at it. It had been two years that Mike practiced his instrument. After all, Andrew gave it to him as a birthday gift.
"Mike, I am sorry," Anton said and wanted to come closer towards him. But it proved futile that not even Mike would allow it.
Mike sighed. "Listen, Anton... I can find another violin. Okay?" He thought for a while, and continued, "Is there a repair shop around here?"
Anton said, "Yes... there is. It is located by the Frankfurt Hotel across a few blocks from here. But Mike... The repair might take longer than you expect. Surely, you can't do that, because it might take a week, and you must practice."
"I know," Mike said. "I'm aware of it. But I'll find another violin if the repair takes long. And please, Anton... I have the money. You don't have to give me anything."
"Um..." Anton felt embarrassed. "Okay, Mike. Again, I'm truly sorry."
Mike didn't say anything to him. He just took his violin and left the building.
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It was dark at night, and raining hard. Mike should have known about the weather forecast in Germany, but he didn't expect it to rain this year. Oh well, Mike thought. I might as well have to get this over with. I need to practice. He threw the broken violin on the garbage nearby, and tried to cover himself from the rain.
He found the repair shop that stood before him. There were a lot of violins in the front display. This must be the violin shop, Mike thought. Lightning flashed across the sky, and that Mike suddenly went inside before it could get any worse. He didn't want to get soaking wet and find himself sick. He should have stayed back at the stage company, and waited for the rain to die down.
The store seemed quiet, and Mike had the feeling that nobody had entered here, during the rainstorm. But Mike was looking for the store owner.
"Hello?" Mike said aloud. "Is anyone here?" He looked around the store for a while. A dozen of violins were been placed on the shelves. Some of them were hanged from the ceiling. It would be hard for Mike to find the right violin at this point. Besides, he just couldn't pick it randomly of his own choice.
The store owner finally came back from the other entrance, after fixing a violin of another customer. He was an old man, who looked about 60 years of age, and wanted to rest for a while. After all, it took almost a week for the owner to fix the famous musician's violin.
"Ah, Hello there, my young man," the old man said. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for a new violin," Mike said. "My old one is broken."
"Oh..." the old man said. "I am very sorry to hear that, but..." He just noticed that Mike didn't bring the broken violin with him. "Where's your violin?"
"Um..." Mike said. "I threw it in the garbage can. It's not worth it, trust me. I just need a new one."
"Hmm... I see. Well, you have come to the right place. But you should have brought the violin with you. I could have fixed it."
"You see, that's the problem. I need to practice. The opera starts a week away, and I really don't have time. I just need a replacement."
"Ah, I understand," the old man said. "Okay then. I'll help you find what you're looking for. By the way, my name is Rudolph Kinski."
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Kinski, and I am Mike Reinhart." He then shook hands with the old man, and looked around the store again. "There are a lot of violins."
"Yes. Yes. I know. It is hard to pick one these days. My customers were having trouble picking the right one! It even took ages..." He laughed. "But you're looking for a special violin. Yes?"
"Yes, I am." Mike thought it would take a while to find the right one.
"Okay," Rudolph said. "Let's see here." He pointed out the violins on the shelves, and explained each one to Mike. Mike never thought the old man had great knowledge about the violins. He must have been a musician, he thought.
As the old man was still explaining, Mike had noticed the violin on the other side of the shelf. It's color was black.
Dear God! Mike thought. He had never seen that kind of violin in his entire life. "What is that?"
"What?" Rudolph said. Then he looked where the young man pointed at it. "Oh that... That one isn't for sale."
Mike stared at him. "Why not?"
"You don't want to know. I thought I had put it back in the room. But for some reason, I must have unconsciously put it here." He even laughed at that absurd thought.
"Um... Okay." Mike looked back at the violin. "But it is beautiful. It's unique and..."
"Listen, Mike," Rudolph stopped him. "I hate to tell you this, but... you shouldn't pick that one. That violin is cursed."
"Cursed?" Mike was confused. "What curse? What are you talking about?"
The old man sighed. "Well... I shouldn't be telling you this, but..." Then he stared at the black violin. "A long time ago, a once famous musician named Harold Mascheini had played that violin. He said it had a strange affect on him, but couldn't explain why. A few days later, he was found dead."
"Dead?" Mike said. "You can't be serious."
"I am serious," Rudolph said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be telling you this story. Anyways, the man's blood was completely drained. I know it sounds crazy, but the doctors have confirmed that Harold's nose kept bleeding all over the place. That's how he died."
"Oh my God!" Mike almost covered his mouth. "That's not possible."
"Yes, I know it sounds absurd. But it is true. That black violin did have an effect on him."
"I see," Mike said, still feeling mesmerized by the violin's presence. "Did anyone else play it?"
"Well..." The old man thought about it for a while, and then said, "It turns out that this violin was also played by another musician back in 1846. People say that he was quite different from the rest of the musicians. His music was... overpowering like the blood, which flowed through our veins. The crowd even felt it."
"Oh really?" Mike said. "That is interesting."
"Yes, it is. But I forgot the musician's name though. I can't seem to remember. Anyways, back when I was a kid, I had stumbled on this contraption in some store. To tell you the truth, I have played this violin for a while. It had an effect on me as well. The other players even felt the same. The crowd stared at it, as if they had been hypnotized by the violin's enchanted music. You know? But I didn't realize that my nose was bleeding at the time. So, I have decided to stop playing it."
Mike didn't know what else to say. The old man's story did seem strange though, and yet interesting at the same time.
"Look..." Rudolph said. "Just pick out another one, okay? That violin is not safe. Trust me."
"But... That's the one I wanted. I don't care, if it isn't for sale. I must have it. Please... I just need it for the week, after the opera ends. I'll give it back to you. I promise."
Rudolph stared at the young man for a while. Then he sighed. "Okay, Mike. It seems you don't believe my story. I can understand that. But I'll tell you what. I'll hand you the violin for a while. But if something goes wrong, you need to stop playing the cursed instrument, and give it back to me. Understand?"
Mike nodded, as if he understood the consequences of playing the black violin. But not really.
"Where will you be staying?" The old man asked Mike. "I need to know, so that you're safe."
"Well..." Mike thought of going back to the stage company. But he didn't want to face Anton after that unsettling incident in the auditorium, and not to mention Jean, of course. "I'm thinking of staying at some hotel. I... haven't found it yet. But I'll let you know."
"Okay..." Rudolph said. "Once you find it, just let me know. I'll still be here."
"Thank you," Mike said. The old man shook his head, and took out the black violin from the shelf.
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Mike went back to the stage company to take his backpack, and the violin case. As he was back in the room, he stared at the black violin, and thought of playing it.
But Mike was tired, and that he wanted to get some sleep. However, he didn't want to stay in this place since the last awkward incident that ever happened in his life, and who knew that Jean might come to his room at any given moment.
He took his things, and stepped out of the building. It was still raining, but not much the last time that he went inside the violin shop. He wished that he had taken an umbrella beforehand.
When he arrived at the Frankfurt Hotel, a desk clerk was currently speaking to an angry client. The clerk noticed him, and nodded as if he had said to Mike, "Wait a moment, please."
Mike waited, and looked around the place. It seemed big as any other hotel that he had ever seen before. But it was still beautiful. He stood there before the front desk, and waited for the desk clerk to finish his call.
When the call ended, the clerk looked at Mike. "Yes... How can I help you?"
"Hi, My name is Mike Reinhart. I want a room."
"Okay. How long will you be staying?"
"Just for a week."
The clerk nodded, and reminded Mike about the food, and other activities at the hotel. But Mike told him that he was only here to play music.
The clerk smiled. "Ah, you're a musician then."
"Yes," Mike said.
"Alright." The clerk punched Mike's information on the computer. Then, he said the price. Mike handed the cash to him, and received some change.
"Here's your key," the clerk said. "Room No. 304. The attendant will show you to it. Do you need help with your luggage?"
"No, that's fine," Mike said. "I can handle it. Thanks."
"Alright then," the clerk said. "Good night."
"You too," Mike said. An attendant appeared out of nowhere and showed him the room.
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Mike laid himself down on the bed, but couldn't sleep. It was a nice room alright. But it became too quiet for a young man like him to stay in such a beautiful place as the Frankfurt Hotel. He imagined his teacher, Andrew standing in front of him, naked. Mike shook his head, and then got up.
He went to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth. He thought, Crap, I didn't have anything to eat. He was really hungry, but it had been late. He stared at the clock, and the time said, 11:00 pm. I'll have to set the alarm for 7:00 am, Mike thought. Yes, he wouldn't have to come late for his next practice session.
The lightning still flashed outside the hotel. He still couldn't sleep. There was a beating sound, like the sound of a human heart. Mike didn't know where it came from. He touched his chest and realized it wasn't him. Then, he saw the violin case.
Jesus Christ! Mike didn't know what else to think. He knew that playing the violin late at night, would cause much stress on him. After all, a musician needed some sleep like what Anton had said before. But Mike was drawn to the beating sound. He opened the case, and stared at the black instrument.
Take me... Let your blood flow!
Mike gulped. He wanted to play it badly. He touched the black violin, and slowly took it. Then he placed it towards his chin, and swing the stick slowly across the string. It sounded beautiful, and yet haunting at the same time. Mike closed his eyes, and imagined himself in the park again. People stared at him. Blood flew through their veins. But Mike didn't see them, because his eyes were still closed. But what he didn't know that his nose was bleeding in reality.
Mike stopped playing. He did feel something, when he saw the droplets of his blood on the floor.
He gasped and then quickly went back to the bathroom, and saw himself in the mirror, the small amount of blood dripping slowly from his nose. He thought, I'm sure, it's nothing. How can a violin do such a thing? It's not possible. It must be the stress. Mike decided to sleep on it, and forget the absurd episode.
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The next day, Mike finally arrived before the next practice session started. People looked at him, including both Jean Letteire and Hito Misaki. Jean said, "Oh, there you are. I have knocked on your door last night. I thought you were sleeping."
"I'm staying at the hotel," Mike said. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"Oh..." Jean said slowly. "No, I don't. I just didn't know you were staying there. Might I ask where you're staying?"
Mike groaned. "Look, Jean... I am tired. Okay? I didn't have enough sleep last night."
"And yet, you're here on time," Jean said.
"Mike!" Anton cried out of nowhere. "Oh, I'm so glad you are here. I was worried about you."
Mike sighed. "There's nothing to worry about, Anton. I just had a rough day. That's all."
"Ah yes, I... remember. Anyways, let's get on with the program. Shall we?" Then he looked at Mike. "I see you have brought the new violin?"
"Yes, I have," Mike said. He went toward the stage, passing the former musician.
There were a lot of young musicians, whom they appeared to be playing their music. Mike didn't know what to expect from them. The competition was tough, and Mike needed to win the contest badly.
Mike gradually took out his new violin, and then everyone stared at it.
"My God!" Jean said. "Where did you get that?"
"Oh this? I have got it from the violin shop. My old one was broken."
"Oh, I see... Well, it is a beautiful violin. I have never seen it before." Hito thought the same.
"Yes, Jean," Mike sounded irritated. "Now... Let me play!"
Mike started playing his new instrument. He closed his eyes again, and imagined the park once more. But in reality, the other participants didn't play their violins. They just stared at him.
Dear God! Anton thought. He was practically the only person, who didn't seem to be affected by it. He probably stayed far away from the stage. After all, the tune of the violin's music, drew the other participants closer toward the young German. They still stood there, watching him like frozen statues.
When Anton came to the stage, he said, "Um... Mike?" But Mike didn't seem to listen to him. Anton even called the other violinists to snap out of their senses, but it was no use.
"MIKE!" Anton cried out. Mike finally stopped playing his music. He opened his eyes, and looked at him.
"What is it, Anton?" Mike said.
"I want to have a talk with you," Anton said firmly. Then he looked at the other participants. They shook their heads, as if something had come over them.
Mike didn't reply back to the former musician. He placed his violin inside the case. Then, he took it with him and have a private talk with Anton.
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In the main office, Anton Vesachelli sat on his chair, and thought of what to do with Mike's current situation. After all, the other music players hadn't played their violins, due to the fact that Mike became the center of attention. He feared that the practice sessions would be a total waste of time, with Mike's presence, now that he had brought his new violin.
Mike sat opposite to Anton on the chair. He knew that Anton became quite angry with him. Not only that, Anton might take advantage of him, now that there were alone in the office. But that wasn't the case.
"Listen, Mike," Anton said. "I must know where you have got that violin from."
"What's the problem?" Mike said. "Is there something wrong?"
Anton was bewildered, when the young man had asked him that question. He said, "Haven't you noticed anything strange, when you have played that violin?"
"No, not really. What's so strange about it?"
Anton sighed. "Look Mike, if this is about what happened yesterday, I am truly sorry of what I have done. I will not make that same mistake again. Okay? I just want you to know that."
"Yes, I know. Your reputation is important."
Anton nodded and got up from his chair. "I just need to know where have you got it from."
Mike sighed. "I got it from a man named Rudolph Kinski. Do you know him?"
"Hmm..." Anton thought about it for a while, and then said. "Yes, I think I do know him. Yes, now I remember. That man sells and fix violins?"
"Yes, that's him," Mike said. "But he said this black violin was cursed. I didn't believe him."
"Cursed?"
"Yes," Mike said. He told Anton the whole story, regarding the instrument and it's history. Not to mention, what happened back at the Frankfurt Hotel.
"I see," Anton wondered. As strange as it sounded, he couldn't believe it either. "You say that your nose has bled last night?"
"Yes," Mike confirmed. "But I thought it must be the stress. You have said it yourself. Practicing too hard isn't good."
"Yes, I did say that. But never in my life, I had heard a musician's nose bleeding, just because he played too much of his music. That is absurd."
"Well, what can I say?" Mike said. "I have told you that I didn't believe the old man's story. It looks like you don't believe it, either. Let's call it even. Okay?"
Anton chuckled. "We're not finished yet."
Mike glared at him. "What do you mean?"
Anton shook his head. "Young man, you haven't grasp the situation at hand here. You have just caused the entire auditorium to lay their eyes upon you. We're talking about the other music players, Mike. They haven't played their violins!"
Mike became silent for a while. Then he said, "That's not fair."
"I know it isn't, Mike. But your black violin... It is something bizarre that I have never heard of in my entire music career, despite the unbelievable legends of it.
"I see... So I cannot play because of the enchanted music? Is that what you're saying?"
"I'm afraid so," Anton said. "I have seen it. I was there. For some reason, I wasn't affected by it. Maybe, I stood too far away from you. I don't know. But that violin's music... Dear God! I have to admit, it was haunting and beautiful. But you have drawn the other players toward you. And you have closed your eyes, not knowing what has happened."
"That's because I was concentrating! What do you want me to do? Open my eyes, and smile, and then let someone kiss my cheek!"
Anton was stunned. He sat down on his chair, and covered his face, feeling embarrassed.
"Look Anton," Mike said. "If you don't want me to play here, I'll understand that."
Anton uncovered his face. "Mike... You can buy another violin, and still play. I have no problem with it. But you cannot play that black violin."
"Oh... Now you're telling me that I cannot play my new violin? Jesus Christ, Anton! That's not even fair!"
Anton didn't say anything. There was nothing else, that he could to do to persuade the young man any further. He felt tired already.
"I'm leaving, Anton," Mike said. "Goodbye!" Then he left.
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Back at the Frankfurt Hotel, Mike stayed inside his room, sulking to himself. He couldn't believe that Anton had said a ridiculous thing to him. He was sure that he could win the contest by playing the newest violin, which he had just recently borrowed from Rudolph Kinski. However, if Anton hadn't interfered on that very day, Mike wouldn't have thought of borrowing the black violin in the first place. It became crucial for Mike to start his music career at any given time. But now... He didn't know what to do.
He went to the bathroom, and took a hot shower. A couple of minutes later, he stared at himself in the mirror. Andrew stood behind him.
"NO!" Mike raised his voice, and unknowingly smashed the mirror with his own hands. He just realized, what he did to himself, and that he had to wash them with cold water.
He went to the bedroom and dried himself up. The last time he came here, he was supposed to call Rudolph, and let him know that he was currently staying at the Frankfurt Hotel. But he seemed to have forgotten all about it, when he had played the "cursed" violin for almost half an hour. Of course, his nose had bled on that night, but he thought it wasn't that serious, considering the fact that the absurd tale was both awry and unbelievable.
He thought of going back home, because he was frustrated that he couldn't handle this kind of situation any longer. He cried to himself in tears.
"Oh God..." He thought of Andrew sleeping beside him. What would have happened, if he had stayed back in America? Would it make any other difference? But he couldn't allow himself to be known that he had been sleeping with his own teacher. What would everyone think about it? What would his family think? He couldn't bear that very thought.
"I love you, Mike," Andrew said, who seemed to appear in Mike's lonely thoughts. Mike looked around the room, thinking that his American teacher had come here to see him, alone. But he wasn't there, except the sound of a beating heart.
"No..." Mike said slowly. He looked at the violin case, lying on the floor. He realized that the bizarre instrument wanted to get out of the case itself. It said, Take me. Let your blood flow! Mike got closer toward it alright, and opened the case. The black violin seemed to draw its attention towards the young man, and yet Mike couldn't help himself, wondering what the violin was doing to him.
Mike picked up the violin. He felt an erotic sensation, coming from the musical instrument itself. His towel fell down on the floor. He felt naked, but not entirely ashamed of it. This is what Anton had imagined you, the violin said to him, in his dark thoughts. Take me, and let your blood flow!
Mike closed his eyes and played...
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In the old days of his youth, Anton Vesachelli had been applauded by the audience, and that made him very happy. He was a man of pure confidence, and who had always done his best to put his performance at heart. Those were the best days alright, and they had passed before his very eyes. But when Mike had entered his life, he couldn't be sure why he was so attracted to him. Nobody knew Anton's true sexuality, because he was afraid that his reputation would become totally abolished to the fact, that he may not play the violin ever again.
A phone rang in his private room, which woke up the former musician himself. He didn't know what time it was, until he saw the clock that now said, 10:00 pm. He picked up the phone nearby, and answered,"Hello?"
"Hello? This is Rudolph Kinski speaking..."
"Ah yes, Rudolph," Anton said, recognizing his voice after all these years. "This is Anton Vesachelli."
"I know who you are," Rudolph said.
There was a moment of silence. Of course, Rudolph would know where the once, famous Anton now lived.
Anton cleared his throat. "Yes, how may I help you?"
"It's about Mike Reinhart. You know him?"
"Yes, I do know him. What seems to be the matter? Is he... alright?"
There was silence on the other end, until the old man spoke up. "I guess you could say that, but I am not sure. Mike was supposed to call me. Because I had warned him about..." He paused, not sure if he wanted to tell Anton about the whole strange incident, regarding the cursed violin. But he sighed and said it anyways. "It's about that black violin."
"Ah yes, I know of it. He has borrowed it from you."
"Look Anton," Rudolph said. "I have been trying to reach him. I figured he would stay at some hotel, but Mike wasn't sure at first of where he had to stay, when I asked of him. So, I figured he might stay at the Frankfurt Hotel. After all, it's close toward my shop."
"I see... But he didn't tell you of where he would be staying?"
"No, he didn't. I did call the Frankfurt Hotel several times. There was no answer."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Rudolph sighed. "I have asked a desk clerk to put the transfer toward the phone in Room 304, but Mike still didn't pick it up. I'm worried, Anton. Something must have happened to him."
Dear God, Anton thought. What possible thing could have happened to the young man? He didn't know.
"Alright, Rudolph. I'll go to the Frankfurt Hotel at once."
"Okay," Rudolph said. Then the call ended.
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Anton rushed toward the Frankfurt Hotel by his car. When he parked it besides the entrance, he went quickly inside the hotel, and saw the desk clerk looking at him. Anton said, "Hello, my name is Anton. I have come here for Mr. Mike Reinhart."
The desk clerk looked surprised. "Mr. Reinhart? What do you want with him?"
"Look..." Anton felt like he didn't have time to explain. "I have reason to believe that my... Um... student is in grave danger."
"Grave danger? What are you talking about?"
"Well... you see... Look, one of my friends called Rudolph Kinski have tried to contact him. But he didn't answer. So, Rudolph called me."
"Oh..." The desk clerk realized, what Anton was talking about. "Oh, yes I remember now. The old man did call me about..." He stopped, and stared at Anton for a while. "Wait a minute... Are you Anton Vesachelli?"
Anton groaned. "Yes, I'm that man. Please, this is an emergency. I..."
"Wow!" The desk clerk interrupted him. "I'm a big fan of your music, and I still listen to it!"
"Yes... Yes... That is great. But I want you to help me, and call Mr. Reinhart. He's in grave danger!"
"Alright," the desk clerk said. "Anything for Mr. Vesachelli."
Jesus Christ! Anton thought. He followed the desk clerk, who had taken the master key with him, in case if the young man didn't answer the door.
When they reached the third floor by the elevator, they sort of rushed to find Room No. 304. The desk clerk called out to Mike, "Mr. Reinhart! Mr. Reinhart! I have Mr. Vesachelli here! He has come to see you! Mr..."
"Move aside," Anton said, stopping him. "I'll handle this." He came closer toward the door, and knocked. "Mike, it's me, Anton! Open the door!"
"He must be sleeping," the desk clerk said.
"I don't think so," Anton said. "Mike! Do you hear me? Open the door! MIKE!"
"Alright, I'll open it," the desk clerk said. He used his master key to open the door. When they reached inside the room, they stood in a pool of blood.
Oh my God! The desk clerk looked around the room, and saw Mike's body lying on the floor. Anton gasped.
Jesus Christ! Anton tried to cover his mouth. He couldn't believe his own eyes. The old man was right about the black violin. It was cursed.
The desk clerk threw up on the floor. He moved away from the room, breathing heavily. Anton didn't look at him. He just stared at Mike's naked form.
Besides Mike's body, there was the black violin. When the desk clerk came back to his senses, he said, "Mr. Vesachelli... I... I have to call the police. Mr. Vesachelli?"
But the former musician didn't seem to listen to him. No, he heard an unknown voice, which came from the violin itself.
Take me... Let your blood flow!
Next story- Sleeping Beauty.
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