The Harmony Passion

By Alexander Rebelle

It's simple: this is a novel that is not for squares: yes, squares. You see, if you're cool, and if you listen to good music, and if you enjoy a good story with a deep meaning and universal themes that doesn't present it all to you with page after page of pretentious gibberish, then you might really like this book. But if you consider yourself too sophisticated for things that don't waste time and prance around for fools, then you're probably a square and you won't want to read this book. I have faith in you though: I think you're cool. I think that this is a book for you, and I think you know how to have an open mind. I really think that. What do you say? Why don't you give it a read? I think you're cool enough to do it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467081719

Alexander Rebelle

I suppose it began in elementary school when I won my first poetry contest at only ten years of age. I look back at the contest now and I see what I think were the first signs of those around me beginning to take notice of my apparent skills as a writer. I was gently encouraged to pursue a career in writing as I continued on through middle school and then went on into high school. Toward the end of my time at Cape Cod Academy, I had a vision of an alternate sort of universe with places and characters that all had stories waiting to be told. This vision began a five-year journey in which I studied all forms of storytelling, from music to cinema to literature. I split my time between two colleges, working on the very first story from the universe I had envisioned all the while. I also developed a passion for music in these five years after high school. I learned to play several different instruments and I recorded a number of demos based off the story I was trying to tell through my writing. I made an attempt at making a career out of music, but it was not to be, as I learned that the landscape of the music industry had changed in such a way as to discourage musical innovation and creativity. So I refocused myself on my writing. It took me until I was twenty-three years old to finally complete my first work of literary fiction. Now I’m a resident of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, the place where I grew up and where I’ve spent a majority of my life.

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Contents

Author’s Note

1:

2:

3:

4:

5:

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16:

Author’s Note Post Script

Author’s Note

It began as a vision deep in my mind: a vision of an entire universe full of people and places, each with their own individual stories to be told. There were characters I saw, begging to be spoken of here outside my own mind: in the realm we call reality. I was young when I had the vision: not yet out of high school. But I was determined and confident. I immediately began writing, writing blindly without direction or cause. For two years, I struggled to bring my vision to life. I stopped and started, destroying all that I had begun to do in frustration before even a single mind beyond mine could perceive any of the universe I saw. There were hundreds of failures, literally hundreds over the course of those two years. And, as one might imagine, I eventually grew tired of the frustration. So I took a step back. But, again, I remained determined to bring my vision to life. Now instead, I concentrated on mastering the art of storytelling. I studied the ways of other storytellers that had come before me: the filmmakers, the novelists, the play writers: from Shakespeare to Chekhov to George Lucas in Hollywood: I studied it carefully: their means and methods. I was still very young to be attempting such an undertaking: all of twenty-one years old, but it was my dream to become a master storyteller. I read and I watched and I studied all I could, never ceasing to learn the art of the craft. I went on like this for another year until I decided I might be ready to try showing my universe to the world again.

I was now twenty-two years old: more mature, and more knowledgeable, and seemingly infinitely more enlightened to the ways of the craft. So this time, I did not sit down and immediately begin writing. Instead of aimlessly typing away the thoughts in my head, I began to organize and create the details and ingredients which held my universe together: I organized the conflicts, the people, the places, the limitations of science and reality and perception of the mind, and I even invented entire languages to get a firmer grip on what I wanted to tell. And once I had done all of this, I thought about how I wanted to reveal my universe to the world. It would have been my vision fulfilled to bring it to life in the form of cinema and motion pictures, however, due to the circumstances of the industry, the possibility that I could do this correctly was so far remote that I considered it not to be worth it. With everything I had created as the background for my vision, how could I have trusted Hollywood film directors to understand everything as I did? I had written and recorded music, I had sketched pictures of people and places, I had created an entire fluent understanding of more than one fictional language I had invented myself, and I knew exactly how everything looked, sounded, felt, and seemed like to all senses of perception. So a film was out of the question for the time being.

Instead, I chose to write a novel. I had written a novel once before as a Mastery Learning Project in high school, but it had been a long time since then. However, when I finally sat down to begin writing, I felt as if I were doing what needed to be done for the very first chronicled tale to come from the universe I knew. For this novel, I decided to mix my two passions in life. I was focused and I was determined. The following text is the finished project. I would like everyone to please read the text with an open mind and a willingness to question what may otherwise seem certain. Thank you all. Good luck, and good reading.

1:

I:

Apollo looked out the window in silence as the craft touched down on the landing pad, seeing the scores and scores of people that had already gathered to watch the arrival. There were banners and posters and camera crews everywhere, all packed tightly behind a short steel fence along the edge of the pavement. Apollo turned away from the window and pulled the shade down over it.

Good crowd out there, said Steve. He sat on the other side of the cabin. Don’t know how the news gets out so fast.

It’s the twenty-first century, dude, said Jeff. He looked out the window at the crowd as well. I’m not surprised. Information travels like lightning now.

Steve paused. Fine, I’ll give you that, he said. With social networking and whatnot.

It’s a sign of the times, said Jeff. Welcome to twenty eighty-two. He paused and turned to Steve, nodding his head. Dude, do you realize we’re finally home? We can actually sleep in our own beds and eat food human beings would eat. And it’s football season. I can taste the wings now."

Wings? asked Steve. You didn’t like all of the Zess?

No, said Jeff. That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten in my life and it was in everything they served on that planet.

I didn’t think it was that bad, said Steve. Reminded me of calamari. They should try frying the stuff with some spices and see if it doesn’t taste any better.

It was not even remotely like calamari, said Jeff. Apollo, was that anything like calamari?

Yeah, I can see how you could say that, said Apollo. Should take that recipe to the Darshuk: fry the stuff up. A little seasoning wouldn’t hurt either.

I rest my case, said Steve. I don’t know what they feed you in Oklahoma, but us Bostonians know our seafood, right Apollo?

They raise us on chowdah and lobstah, said Apollo. Lobstah and chowdah. You aren’t a true Bostonian if you don’t like seafood.

A man in a suit and tie walked into their section of the cabin. Your rides are waiting, he said. I’ll get in touch with you if anything comes up, and I know you all know how to get in touch with me. Great job, guys. This was a very successful tour. You should all be proud.

Killer, dude, said Steve. I think we’ve all earned some rest and relaxation.

I’d say so, said the man in the suit. He motioned to the door. Gentlemen, you’re free to go home.

The trio walked out of the spacecraft. Jeff went first, followed by Steve, and then followed by Apollo. The crowd erupted as Apollo exited the craft. He continued to walk toward the limousine, not making eye contact with anyone. He’d almost made it there when a young woman jumped the barrier and slipped past the security guards. Apollo stopped short as she ran in front of him and screamed. Three guards tackled her and dragged her away.

I love you, she cried. Soul mates. I give my heart to you.

Apollo shook his head, stepping into the limousine and taking a seat.

Where to, boss? asked the driver.

Just get me the hell out of here, said Apollo. Take me home. Please.

The limo began driving. Your name’s gotten pretty big around here since the last time I saw you, said the driver. How you doin’ with all of this? You okay?

Yeah, I’m okay, said Apollo. But I really need a break from this. It’s just ridiculous right now.

I hear you, said the driver. Can’t go a single day without hearing your name somewhere.

I wish people would just give me my space, said Apollo. Is that so much to ask?

But what are you going to do about it? asked the driver. Not much you can do, right? The driver paused. So, you meet any girls on tour? You got a girlfriend yet?

I don’t have a girlfriend, said Apollo. Everyone asks me that. And I’d love to find someone, but so far, all I’m finding are fans. I’m not looking for a fan. I’m looking for someone that will be honest with me about how they feel. And fans don’t do that. Fans will blindly do anything you ask them to.

You think so? asked the driver. He paused. It sounds to me like you have someone already in mind. You already know who you want, don’t you?

What do you mean? asked Apollo. I already know who I want?

You sound like you have someone in mind, said the driver. I won’t tell a soul. Who you gunning for?

Apollo looked out the window. I’m really not gunning for anyone, he said. In all honesty. I just want someone who will be honest with me.

Well, you got groupies at least? asked the driver.

Apollo looked back at the driver. Steve and Jeff have groupies, he said. I’m not in it for that. Those girls wouldn’t give a damn worth a cent if I’d never picked up a guitar in my life, so why should I care about them?

You’re a smart kid, said the driver. Keep it that way. Don’t you ever bring anyone superficial into this limousine. You hear me? You keep your head on straight and you’ll be fine.

Well, I didn’t get to where I am by being stupid, said Apollo. I like to think I worked really hard.

The limo drove through a set of gates and came to a stop in front of a large beachfront property. You go and get some rest, said the driver. You know how to get in touch with me if you need a ride.

The driver got out and opened the door for Apollo.

Thanks, Carl, said Apollo. Apollo got out of the limo.

No problem, said Carl. You ever need anything, I always got your back: always, no matter what.

Thanks, said Apollo. See you around.

Apollo walked up to his house. He walked inside and immediately went over to the couch where he picked up the television remote and used it to turn the TV on. The morning news was on. Apollo quickly changed the channel as he saw the footage of himself and the incident with the woman at the spaceport. He changed the channel to a comedy channel. He watched for a few moments, but then fell asleep.

II:

Two men sat at the table of the restaurant in the orbital space station as they ate their dinner. The atmosphere was lavish, with chandeliers, a live orchestra, and a giant fountain in the middle of the dining area. Both men were heavy in build and older in age, each dressed in a tuxedo.

I would like to congratulate you, Norm, said one of the men. On your recent success. I didn’t think it would happen.

Not many did think it would happen, said Norm. He had scar on the right side of his face. But I have no hard feelings. It’s business.

Of course, said John. You do what’s in the best interest of your business and I do what’s in the best interest of my business. He paused and sipped his champagne. But now that our little wager has come to a close, how would you like to open up a new gentlemen’s wager?

It would depend, said Norm. What would the wager be this time?

I wager that I can make an act bigger than Snow Goose, said John. "That will be the