Quiet. John Cage Quiet.

This is the beginning of short story I'm working on, but I haven't progressed very far yet.

The velvety texture of the notes swirled around him, painting an exquisite portrait on the canvas of the night air. Closing his eyes, Sean lay back on the grass and laced his fingers behind his head. The music reached a frenzied and tumultuous crescendo, then faded into blackness. A small smile played across his handsome features. Sean loved Rachmaninov’s 3^rd concerto more than any other work, and tonight it perfectly fit his chaotic emotions.

That’s one thing Romantic music is good at, he chuckled to himself; portraying humanity’s perpetual state of turmoil. Sighing, he gazed up at the night sky, picking out his favorite constellations and naming them quietly to no one in particular. He low voice melded with the warm blackness of the summer night:“Ursa Major, Cassiopea, Hercules, Lyra, Cygnus. Libra, Scorpius, Sagittarius,” he whispered, finding much comfort in the stars �" they were as familiar to him as his own face. The stars were to him as he suspected friends would be to most. They listened to his troubles, and comforted him in times of need; however, unlike people, they changed rarely. He grimaced at the thought of people, of returning to work tomorrow, of immersing himself in the so-called “real world” �" to Sean, nothing was more real than what he was experiencing right now.  The subtleties of society, the rules and pressures of social interaction �" what purpose do these serve? He wondered. All I need is here. Sighing, he realized that, while he might like to consider it all purposeless, in order to survive in this world, money, and thus work, was necessary. With and effort, he rolled to his side and stood up, shuffling barefooted through the freshly-cut grass in the backyard toward his darkened house. The warm, rich scent of the grass hovered on the still air, and an orchestra of crickets heralded the approach of autumn. Sean let himself in the back door, covered his eyes with one hand and flicked on the kitchen lights with the other. The small kitchen was clean but cluttered, strewn with papers, sheet music, half-finished projects, and clean dishes waiting to be put away. 

Author's Note

Feel free to let me know what you think! Criticism is welcome!