Scene three - If your life was a musical

An overhead view shows him standing, paused in the centre of the bedroom, and for the moment his small head rested in tinier hands. His eyes are mildly closed while trying to draw from his memories.

With each breath, the sound of his beating heart seemed to thump more loudly and after counting off thirty long beats, he suddenly burst like rocket fuel. “Yes” leaping upwards off his feet, “that’s where it is,” convincing himself that his memories hadn’t faltered. The photographic image in his mind helped him remembered where he last saw the treasure.

“Inside my Mom's music box,” he squealed. The next part of his plot was to somehow manage to get into his parent's bedroom without being noticed. To accomplish that goal, he needed to cross the hallway of doom. A hardwood floor minefield, covered with many noisy creeks, cracks, and squeaks.

He pulled off his shiny dress shoes and left them by the door. And like the infamous cat burglars he’s watched on television made his way towards his parent’s room. The method may have been a bit of a stretch, but he needed to cover every trace of every step he took. He acted like an inchworm with slow purposeful movements and direction to reduce as much noise as possible.

Pushing closer to his goal, the boy managed to slip into the middle bedroom without detection. Once there he carefully removed his socks, making for a better grip for his final approach. Six feet was all that remained to reach the master bedroom.

Reminiscing over the many times he accomplished this next feat but never has he needed to do it so covertly. His next steps hinged on mustering all his muscular energy to be successful. The trick to earning his prize at the end was balancing himself on the tips of his toes and hanging to the railing while shimmying along its edge.

He swung his left leg straight out in the same fashion as a switchblade knife. His right soon followed connecting and pressing flush along to the bottom half of the surface of the wall. Feeling that suction of pressure, he knew it was safe to extend his arms and place his hands firmly against the wall.

Although it didn’t take much of his strength, he gradually lifted his body almost parallel to the wooden floor. Crawling on both edges creeping over the surface like creatures from a horror movie.

It took a consuming effort to stand before their bedroom door. The next few feet into the room though were trickier. He stepped closer to the doorway, snuck a look, then quietly pushed the door open.

Nothing was going to stop him from claiming what he believed was technically his anyway. The boy showed tremendous patience, waiting for that precise moment to act.

He lingered on the cusp of his impulse to move in, waiting for his Mother to start making herself an espresso or any type of distracting noise. Maybe even preparing him something to eat for breakfast. Just one beat, one breath, or one second was all he wished to have happened to make his attempt to the other side and the inside of a jewelry box.

He waited suspended at the entrance until a sudden static frequency smashed the awkward silence. That reliable tab was switched on, powering up the red double cassette Akai brand portable unit in the kitchen. Upon hearing those songs pour out, this little guy didn’t hesitate anymore, the time and his chance had arrived.

His Mom had provided the perfect distraction, doing what she so often does. She turned on the radio to hear her favourite morning segment, an international station playing songs from the many diverse musical talents from her homeland of Italy on CHIN Radio Canada.

And instantly he raced inside, panning through the room until he spotted the box. It was laying on their six-foot-long 70’s style brown marble veneer dresser. In a moment he would open the lid as quickly as possible without casting her musical number, the tiny ballerina dancer.

The piece he was so desperate to acquire shined and sparkled up at him from below. Grabbing it in his fingers, we hear the piano keys strike once more “And I would do anything for love, I'd run right into hell and back,” the lyrics burst from his lungs, trolling past the middle bedroom, sweeping the socks he left behind.

“I would do anything for love,” springing along picking up his shiny black shoes tucked just inside his room, “I'll never lie to you and that's a fact,” he was eager to reach her at their usual meeting place, the willow tree at the end of the schoolyard.

He sprinted as blindly seeing that she was waiting for his arrival. He took her hand in his, “But I'll never forget the way you feel right now, oh no, no way, And I would do anything for love

But I won't do that, No I won't do-

Anything for love, Oh I would do anything for love, I would do anything for love, But I won't do that No I won't do that…

The young boy knelt on one knee and offered up his baptismal ring as a proposal ...

Song lyrics courtesy of Jim Steinman, his legacy will live on through his grand composing Rock Opera collaborations.

If you enjoyed this tale into a piece of my history, please have a read with the first two scenes and tell me what you think ...

https://vocal.media/beat/if-life-was-your-musical

https://vocal.media/humans/scene-2-if-your-life-was-a-musical