“Jasper” edited.

For those of you that might have read my “Jasper” prologue, I edited it because I didn’t like how it was going — plus, as I’ve altered the story a little bit with new characters & such, so the prologue didn’t fit.
Opinions?

A boy
A teenager.
A son.
A pianist.

Titles mean so little to me these days. To my father and my instructor they mean the world, just like they used to mean to me. A title makes us feel more important and wanted, makes us feel like we belong, but I don’t need a title to belong. My purpose is my music.

I grew up where the piano was regarded about as highly as meatloaf. Since I was twelve, since the first time I heard the classical melody of a wide-brassed grand piano, I centered myself around music. My only parent, my father Roger, was more supportive of the instrument than I could have ever hoped for. He bought me my first set of professional keys and has come to ever since to watch me play at every recital.

I never had lucky with the girls like my friends did growing up, but I did manage to keep two ladies in my lie: my best friend Melony, and my piano. It has never been a hundred percent mine, for it belonged to the H.A.D. organization, but through the years I’ve spent there, my fingers have run along it’s keys enough to claim it as such.

Meredith says that I can become great; a Ludwig Van Beethoven of my time.

But I don’t play just for her.

I play for the crowd, and for Melony on occasion, and for my father. I’ve played for audiences all over the state of Georgia. But I have one melody that I play only for myself.

I could never quite bring myself to name it. It was simply my favorite. I take car to make sure that my ears on the only ones to hear it, playing at H.A.D. only in the late hours when no one is around to interrupt me.

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