All in a Day's Dance

by L.R. Lane

Copyright © 2018

Written for "The TW Suite" © 2010 L.R. Lane

Publisher of

Excerpts (up to chapter 7)

Midnight Echoes of the Concert Hall - Music from the evening’s concert was echoing through Truchsia’s mind, on her way home. She often rearranged stirring phrases from the repertoire, to counterpoint with her own melodies for fun. As impromptu as a gesture of reflex, the vivid image of the amorous couple in the front row of the theatre occurred to her. The pair seemed to blend into the sonic backdrop, which made her wonder if music was able to take someone into another world.

Farrago’s Fling - Her clock struck twelve o’clock midnight, and she began to hear music. It was unlike anything she had heard before. She met face to face with the figure and he smiled. It was Farrago.

He mimicked her guitar playing in a silly self-absorbed manner, fluttering his fingers about with the air of a maestro, and then gesturing toward her manuscript. “The music from your concert program is over with. It’s time to switch your program to what’s really going on,” he spoke. “My music will take you on an excursion of self-discovery and titillation. I’ve been keeping track of your guilty pleasures and your deep need for me. We’ll become much more than trivial make believe and hopes – our collaboration will be a stunning display of perfect harmony.”

Strange Wonder - Truchsia looked over her other drawings and saw how much they needed Farrago’s “phenomenissant” skill. It seemed reasonable to her that the lopsided weight she was carrying would balance out, if she could bring his qualities out more. However, she was carrying more emotional baggage with her than she realized.

Rebus’s Window - Life in the metropolis presented a perfect window of opportunity and every day a new adventure in Truchsia’s mind. Prior to moving there she had seen pictures of what she thought of as the high-life. "I’ve always dreamed of it being wonderful in a city like New York or Chicago, she envisioned –some place romantically European or maybe even discovering something enigmatic in Canada.

Each morning began like a dance with destiny on a stage with transforming sets and characters. A character she could not erase from her thought was Farrago. "How did that happen?" She asked herself...

Pondering Crossroads - Like a raft adrift on a lake of free-form contemplation, her bed was her place to ponder, question and think of ways to push anything out of her thoughts that she wanted to.

"All that material wealth; wow! Why are some people so fortunate while so many others have to live by constantly pulling up their boot straps – like Joseph had to?"

Dancing with Yesterday’s Shadows - Truchsia was laid off from her job at the Realoc Agency, which put her in an awkward position regarding her university studies...

She was not so sure if she had any momentum left for pursuing her educational aspirations. “I feel like I’ve failed"...

She saw the slender vase with the rose standing by the candle. Suite Rebus sat at the piano bench, staring at her. He chuckled in that special way of his, “I see losing is something you have a genuine talent for. I have music that’s perfect for this occasion.”

Truchsia began to speak, but he stopped her. “Tut! I know what you plan to say. It’s high time to face the music.” He had a cool, steely look.

Rebus launched into a decrescendo to introduce a whining, earthy melody.

Behind the Silhouette - The sound of delicate piano music woke her earlier than normal the next morning. While straining to see clearly in the early morning sun, she saw Suite Rebus at the keyboard, and she could not hide her disappointment. His gaze was upon her once again. “Is that any way to greet me?” he asked.

“I see you’ve had the audacity to get yourself into the amorous world. You should know that what merely appears to be, and what actually is, changes form like a silhouette. There is no room in our relationship for a second passion. You can do so much more with me than you can do with him. He is nothing we need,” Rebus asserted.

“Let me show you what we really are to each other.” He played a tortuous composition, and she felt the magnitude of his control engulfing her again. He entered her mind, painting vivid pictures with his skillful playing. By the time he was finished, she was mesmerized by five facets of fashioned folly – all having features changing like a rumor behind a silhouette...

The music of Suite Rebus had intoxicated her in a peculiar, but stimulating way. She was living it and breathing it. Everything seemed fine on the surface, but there was something behind the whole experience that she needed to understand. His jealous trait was not in her design.

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