AMOS DAWN // D11 // FIN

[Onyx]

amos dawn
fourteen sixteen
male
district eleven

His hunched and twisted limbs only ever relax from their grotesque shape when there's music playing. It's like the throbbing notes seep through his pale flesh and hit his bones, making them tremble like shoots in a storm, straightening, unwinding, expanding. He's a short boy, but when he stands straight he's almost as tall as his uncle. From all the time he spends wrapped around a cello, or peering closely at a manuscript, however, his back naturally adopts a far less attractive slant. Music is his whole existence - his ribs (two broken and reshaped from childhood clumsiness) no more than ivory piano keys, his wiry maple hair only clusters of strings, his shaped lips simply pink castanets, pressed firmly together whenever he's in public, but rattling happily around his family.

All the Dawns - Amos, his cousin Christian, his 'aunt and uncle' (truly cousins as well) and great-uncle - are fairly quiet. Their business doesn't require much communication, just knowledge and faith that everyone plays their part. Granted, after harvest, when the men go down in the old truck to sell plums at market, their true volume emerges and they bellow out their sales. But back at home, it's usually Amos and his aunt who do most of the minimal talking, with the others grunting and sighing their agreement, thinking about other things.

There was a time when the house was filled with noise, and it didn't require Amos frantically playing his instruments to fill it. When his grandfather had been alive, a booming man with a face as red as the plums he was constantly checking out in the orchards, Amos still had other interests as well as his music. Walking with the old but robust old man, who he always felt more connected to than the rest of the family, or going into town with him, or simply playing board games late into the night, when he really should have been in bed. That was the problem, though - the things he enjoyed depended on the presence of the other, and so when he was gone, it seemed totally unthinkable to replace him with someone else.

Instead, Amos began to get panicky every time there was a lull in conversation, and the background noise vanished - even for the smallest moment. So, he began to concoct a plan to fix it. When he first moved in with his cousins, after his parents ran away to join some irrational and imaginary revolution, he had been encouraged to learn an instrument so his brain stayed healthy and exercised. Amos opted for flute, whilst Christian began to practise the fiddle. Quickly, it became clear that one boy was more prodigious than the other. Amos wasn't naturally proud, but it did give him pleasure to be better than who he saw as the favourite child - simply for actually belonging to the family.

Despite little competitions like this, the two boys get on fairly well. Their age is truly the only thing they had in common, with totally different personalities and appearances. Amos' face is sterner and more intelligent than Christian's, with straight dark eyebrows and hazy grey eyes. His nose ends in a distinct point and the tiny cleft in his unstubbled chin that's unique to only him in the present household betrays that the two are only distantly related. Amos' long, craned neck and lifted shoulders give the suggestion of introversion, but Christian looks much more relaxed. Truthfully, it's Amos who does most of the talking at school when the two are in groups together, and Amos who has the courage to stand up when Christian is bullied for his sometimes rash or odd comments.

Amos doesn't care about school at all - it's just a motion of his life that he has to get through. That's an opinion he exhibits concerning most things, from the Hunger Games to his work around the orchard. The only exception, or the only one worth mentioning, is his music. That's not a motion, it's a passion - and one that Amos has been entirely devoted to since he first began to excel beyond Christian. Every note he plays out is like a drug, sending chills rushing around his body, out and down his arms and up his spine. Wings of pleasure that unfurl as a piece develops. His slightly pointed ears aid him with a sense of hearing that's fine and sharp.

However, Amos quickly found that a flute wasn't enough to fill the silence that his grandfather had left. Every time the boy drew a breath it closed in again. It wasn't enough. Other instruments were the answer, and soon Amos had devoted himself to guitar and cello in addition. The cacophony of a beginner turned into the flowing melodies of a learner, and then an expert - thanks to his extraordinary talent and dedication. Before he was fourteen, Amos had mastered this art, and played at every opportunity he could, to fill that hole of absence that was so unbearable.

Ultimately, Amos started to realise that it wasn't the instruments themselves that comforted him, but the assurance that he once again had a hobby to fill his time. And this was one that wouldn't expire so quickly. He began to learn the art of music - not just the instruments - and taught himself about time signatures and keys, complimentary notes and different arrangements. He composed when he wasn't playing, and sometimes got so lost in finding the right sequence that he would lose himself to a tantrum. It's at times like this that he's truly sure that he can now move on from his grandfather's passing, and the loss of his past. He's found a new talent, one that doesn't need anyone else, and he displays it gloriously.

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

Accepted!

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