~~ Dear Pen Pal,
I wish to tell you, how I find Franz Liszt to be very special. He is very small, almost petite. I often mistaken him for a girl for how fragile he looks, so refine and reserved at the same time. I would never see him take off his shirt and run around the sports field in a victory lap, not like the boys in my class... or, at least not like the boys in the 'most recent' class I had last attended...Was that five months ago? No good, I need to exercise more and improve my health. Anyways, Franz is very talented with the piano. It is to the point where he can play faster and more accurate than myself. We tried a little competition once, where we share the same bench and play off musical notes with each other. With one hand he would make a tune, and I would try to follow in speed and tempa, then vice versa. His reflexes are astounding.
However, I always noticed how much he fidgets or move away from me whenever I try to fix my posture on the bench... Could it be he doesn't like being touched by others... or did Penny spray my clothing with this 'charm' she kept boasting that would ward off random animal attacks if I were to walk through tall grass?...Probably Penny causing troubling for me again.
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Franz Liszt.
In reality, he was an astounding composer. Particularly he was talented in the grand instrument of the piano.
Born and raised in the Kingdom of Hungary when it was part of the Austrian Empire at the time. He had become infatuated with piano music that his father always played and thus adopted the skill starting at age of 7.
As he grew, he became more and more adept in the instrument that much of compositions was born from the womb of the piano. A composer, a virtuoso pianist, conductor, musical teacher, organist, philanthropist, and author, he had grew up to become one of the many great things that changed the world of music and philosophy.
His most popular piece being the classical Leibestraum, or Love Stream in Hungarian.
The best fact of the day – he was Frederic Chopin's close friend (honest). In history he was male. In this situation—Gender Bent.
"Little girl. I'll gut you."
"I-I'm sorry! I'm terribly sorry! I'm truly, madly, deeply sorry for accidentally ripping your hair out!"
"Just look at what you did! Y-you... these strands of golden keratin had such a long life ahead of them! F-for you to nip them at the very roots that give them nutrients and life... h-how could you...THESE LOCKS ARE MY CHILDREN!"
"Eeeek! P-please! S-spare me! D-don't attempt to strangle me with your torn hair!"
"DID YOU SPARE MY HEAD WHEN I BEGGED YOU TO LET GO!? NAY! IT FELL ON DEAF EARS YOU CRUEL AND HEARTLESS WOMAN!"
"Guugh! I-I didn't mean too! Please...n...no...I.........lungs........b...bursting.................C...Ch.....Sir.....Chopiiiiin."
"Oh screw this. Even with your swelling red face, your big rounds eyes remind me of a dear in a wagon's lantern light. It ruins the mood Tch!"
"Puwaaaaaah! ...I-I just saw my life flashing before my eyes! Wh-why did I see images wh-where Hungary has b-become an independant state!? I-it's was so beautiful. W-with s-steel wagons pulling themselves without horses, i-iron birds the size of a churches floating in the sky...and all these people in weird clothing, hanging their heads down to look at this glowing glass box in their hands."
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
"...What are you a Psychic? How about recite the lottery 200 years in the future. Hah!"
".......11...16...17...22...29...47...And the bonus number is 32."
"Where is a quill and parchment!? WHERE IS A QUILL AND PARCHMEEEEEENT!?"
The Witch bolted from her spot, running around in search of a sharp feather an a roll of papyrus paper. No matter how hard she looked for these important items, her short-term member eventually dumped the information out of her brain and was thinking of kitten paws.
"Son of a b*tch! Wh-why am I thinking of cat girls licking each other all of a sudden!? Gaaaaah!"
"Wh-what was I blurting out from my mouth just? Th-those numbers sound completely foreign!"
The tresspasser--er, guess could be found curled up on the floor. She tried to pick herself up and attempted to shake the stars out of her small head. It only made her dizzyness worse with her brain sloshing around in a liquid jar call her skull.
"...You're very mean."
"Says the crossdresser."
"Sob."
"Geh!? Y-you gave up so suddenly!? Wh-what happen to that fiery spirit that could revive the French Revolution to its climax!?"
"I-I'm sorry. I-I can only be angry at most once a day...I-I honestly don't have the heart to be mad for more than 10 minutes."
"...Wh-why does it sound like some kind of messed up super power that no one wants...Sigh. Do you want some tea to calm down?"
"Y-yes please..."
"Hmm...How does Chop-Chop put it...Right. How many lumps?"
"Five."
"THAT MANY SUGAR CUBES!? THE F**K IS WRONG WITH YOUR BLOODSTREAM!?"
Not at all bothered by the fact a Witch was yelling at her, the Hungarian Girl just curled up on the ground in a dismal mess. Unable to watch the sobfest any more, the Witch quit her temporary counselling position and retreated into the kitchen. She was an expert a brewing... making tea was easy as boiling a love potion, right?
"..............................Ah...i-is that...S-Sir Chopin's p-piano...Sniff. H-her name is... Jolly, right?"
All alone in the Family Parlour, Franz Liszt lifted up her small head to sniff back her tears. Whatever pain she dwelled in went numb to her senses, upon her eyes setting on a certain instrument sitting in the middle of the living room. A chaste and pure ebony piano. With ivory keys that were well worn for playing over hundreds of different songs born from the tapping of the strings and cords. A sublime source of piece and musical fantasy.
"........................This is where Sir Chopin sits...e-even when he's not here... i-it's...so warm..."
The Girl was missing her bulky pants. The Witch had tore off her lower armor in their initial struggle and have yet to throw them back at her. So, it revealed how full and round her thighs were. Nothing like the legs of a man in which she tried to impersonate. Lovely limbs similar to that of an authentic Greek statue.
"...Ah! Th-the keys... i-it felt... like I'm touching Sir Chopin's very fingers... he must really love his piano."
With only her loose dress shirt and one sleeve on her arm with the rest of her coat trailing across the ground like a half-cut curtain... she fidgeted in the piano bench, her hands wandering over the ivory keys, and her eyes never once turning away from the series of hand-written pages nested across the sheet tray in front of her.
"...... This feeling... he's so far away, yet so close in my heart... I... I really wish... I could be by his side."
Slowly, those slender fingers began to come to life on their own... and play a simple melody.
Liebestraum
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptLvid_YfBg)
[https://data.whicdn.com/images/170130222/original.gif]
"...This melody... it's flowing through me.. a river of warmth, and honey... I can smell it, the scent of the daisies in bloom...The taste of mint and vermillion on my tongue...How I long for the hand of another..."
The Hungarian Composer touched the keys, worn out by the same fingers of a certain Polish Composer. With every chime made from the womb of the piano, it ran a soft chord after another. Ting. Ting Ting.
As simple as the steps of an adventuring child. As rich as the warm summer breeze rubbing one's skin. As pleasant as the waves rolling across the pearl white shores.
A melody that could never be forgotten, not even in the next 200 years.
"I... love... the one who cherishes me the most....Don't you think so...Sir Chopin?"