Symbiote Boyfriend: Sonata (special preview)

My father had once been a very popular local musician. At one point, he had a chance at the big time, but instead he decided to open a small restaurant with my mother. They had a small stage in the restaurant where bands could come play, maybe get their own start. I never understood why my dad gave up his chance at stardom for the small kitchen he and my mother work in daily.

I work part time at the restaurant as well, although my parents want me to focus on school. I’ll admit, I got a sort of late start in terms of college. I’m one of the oldest people in my class, aside from the teacher. Right out of high school, I stayed out of college when my dad got sick. For a while there, it didn’t look so great, so I stayed home to take care of him as well as help Mama run the restaurant. 

After he got better again, Papa insisted I go to college as I had planned, he even helped me pay my way. “Julio,” he told me, “you are destined for great things in this world. You may not see it, but someday, you’ll look back and know what you did mattered. I want to be able to give you that start. That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

I was going so I could become a music professor. I wasn’t quite as talented as my father, but I knew music like the back of my hand. I could play several instruments, and I had been writing music for longer than I could remember. Teaching felt like the best way to be connected to my craft. I didn’t know what else I could do with it that mattered.

One night, I was sitting on the porch, playing my guitar like always. It was dark, and my parents were already asleep. My latest project for school was to write a song that would be performed at a benefit concert. I hadn’t been able to think of anything. The idea of actually performing my work, terrified me. 

I eventually sit back and look up at the sky. There is still a slight hue of pink on the horizon and it shows the caps of the mountains in the distance. I lean forward a bit, sighing to myself as I lament the day. Everyone else in my class was already showing off their notes and progress on their songs, meanwhile, I have nothing.

I strum my guitar while gazing into the distance. “Julio, you are a fool, what are you doing? Julio, this isn’t how it goes. You started late, you never date, you wait on tables, bussing plates. Julio, you truly are the fool. You stay at home and grow jealous of the starlight. You sit around when other people move. You sing these songs that are not long, your voice, it doesn’t carry tune. Julio, you truly are the fool.”

I hear a small rustle and then, out of the bushes, there is a small cat sitting on the railing. We’d been having this stray appear around our house a lot lately. It’s face is mask-like, completely white with small eyes, the rest of its body is black with swirls of grey. 

I strum my guitar again as it watches me. “Do you like my music?” I ask it. “Or have you come to yell at me to stop yowling into the night?” I chuckle. 

The cat leaps down and trots over to me, plopping down at my feet. I smile at it, setting my guitar aside so I can pet it.

“You are a pretty thing, aren’t you?” I cup the top of the head and find it’s sticky. I try to pull my hand away, but it’s stuck to the cat. I struggle, trying to yank myself free, but the black of the cat is turning bright orange right before my eyes.

The orange flows up my arm and forces me further down onto the ground. Something rises up off the cat and the mask faces me. I go to scream but the orange goop covers my mouth.

“Please! Be quiet!” It whispers. The mask tilts to the side as it looks at me. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I need your help.”

I struggle and continue to try to scream.

“No! No! Please!” The ooze is turning from orange to blue. “I don’t want to hurt you at all. I didn’t want to scare you either, but I am desperate.” The blue rises up around me. “You have to help me.” I feel it creep up around my neck like I am sinking underwater. I gasp for breath and then I am awake.

I sit up in bed, looking at my ceiling fan slowly spinning. I blink a few times and make sure that I’m not dreaming anymore.

There’s a knock on the door. “Julio, are you still here?” My mother asks.

“Yes, Mama,” I sit up in bed. “I’m up.”

“You left your guitar outside last night! Someone could have stolen it!”