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A repository of my published sheet music. All of my music is released under CC-BY 4.0.
Inspired by French impressionism, Debussy in particular. Originally written as a birthday gift for a friend, who shared my love of Debussy.
The second in a series I did exploring how music can create an atmosphere. The music came first here, and the accompanying text was an attempt to capture the same vibe in another form:
Black, and gray, and silver.
Spires of silver and glass, soot-stained palaces,
standing miles high, straight and proud as the old kings. A city.
Your nose stings with metal, and sulfur,
and shrivels in disgust at the rotting miasma of death. A tomb.
In the distance, a shadow.
Straining through the smoke and mist and ash, you can almost mark its form.
A mountain? It hurts to look.
Your vision is a vignette, fading to red at the edges.
You blink the sting out of your eyes, and look away.
Your eyes clear, gradually.
Clouds swirl above in knots and tangles, barely visible through the darkness.
There was a sun up there, once.
It's cold.
The streets are cratered and cracked.
Many of the old kings slump, or bow, or lie prone,
their metal bones and glass blood strewn across the landscape.
This one holds toys and portraits of smiling children.
That one is furnished with tables and chairs. Another is empty.
A low rumble. You turn to the mountain.
At its peak, a great red ring blinks into existence,
encircling a void somehow even blacker than the surrounding darkness.
The eye is filled with ageless, impossible,
insane thoughts, beyond your understanding.
Except for one.
Contempt. Hatred.
Infinite, primal hatred.
It has seen you.
All around, the old kings begin to shudder.