Cello There!

Blank. Oohh look, something shiny...Stop it! Focus Sakura, focus. You have to do about a million essays, cook dinner, and shake off the headache you got from, "Wear this costume, tuck your hair in your disgusting hat, walk with pointed toes while carrying a basket on your head, and don't forget to blah blah blahblah." Oh, and you promised yourself you wouldn't rant or complain on your blog.
Great.
That's too bad, because other than that, there is absolutely nothing enlightening or even remarkably interesting going on in my mind. Have you ever noticed how appealing other websites are when you have work to do? How hard it is to stay on one page and focus on an essay about the Black Death, especially when it's in a format that should never be used for a comparison essay? Ok, maybe not that exact situation, but you know what I'm talking about if you've ever been a student. You also know that your mind will start making up random crap to get you out of the situation. Oh, you're hungry Sakura. You haven't eaten anything all day. Just because you just ate dinner doesn't mean you're not going to starve to death. The kitchen's in the other room, just a few steps away. Are you really going to get in trouble for having a little snack? You can't focus on an empty stomache. Sakura, Sakura, Saakuurraa.....And so forth. Your mind won't stop nagging you, telling you that your time could be better spend elsewhere or that a 'little break' won't hurt. And now of course I'm stuck with this habit, and oh, is it a hard one to break.
But that's not why I'm blogging. I'm blogging because I have an amazing story to tell, and you better listen. I don't want to hear, "Oh Sakura, I'm not interested in cellos." or "What's the point?" I'll get to it when I get to it-besides the point of stories is the journey, not the destination.
The other day my mom and I went to Summerhays to kill some time and maybe look into replacing my bow. We saw lots of instruments including flutes, violins, and even jaw harps. Many of them were breath-taking; a few were tacky and cheap. All of them, however, were amazing in my mind. All of them held the power to take you to a world unknown to most of Earth's population. All of them were able to teach you, whether you were learning valuable life skills or just learning how to entertain your younger sibling.
We walked in and I went immediately to the strings section, where I first stroked a viola, admired a bass, and held a bow up to the light. I was broken out of my revelry by my mother coming up behind me.
"Holy crap. I would not pay $5600 for a cello like that."
I was stunned. She, my mother, the one who always says, "don't judge a book by it's cover" had taken a cello at face value! She hadn't taken it off the shelf and played it, or noted how old it was, or even asked why it costed so much. She just saw the pockmarked sides, the price tag, and walked on. I immediately took the cello down and grabbed a bow, not realizing that it had little to no rosin on it. I played the cello and was amazed at it's sound. I never wanted to put that cello back on the wall, even when my family started walkin out the door.
I realized later that I had almost no rosin on that bow, and wondered how it played so well. (For those of you who aren't string musicians, rosin is essential. Without it, there is absolutely no sound whatsoever. I have a feeling that if I'd grabbed a cheaper, newer cello, all that would have come out is SQUEAK! SQUEAK!)
So, long story short, one day I forgot to bring my cello to school. I know, I know, I'm such a horrible person. Anyway, I grabbed a cello from the back room and got it out, realizing as I did so that it was coated with dust. Not just dusty, coated with it. It didn't stop there. Either I was crazy, or the fingerboard was crooked. NOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Not the fingerboard, anything but the fingerboard! Nooo!
Ok, calm down Sakura, calm down. The point is this: Even though that cello was beautiful, it sounded horrible and was probably the worst cello I've ever played. And yet the uglier one was amazing.
So really- don't ever, ever, ever-
Judge at face value.
(Or in my case, judge a cello by it's looks :D)

Continued- and Yes, Yes It Does

As me and A-ron got to the top of the old, cracked steps, I noticed that the slab of rock had moved yet again. So that's what that wierd handprint did, I thought, depressed with the realization that my adventure was cut short. I went immediately to the front room, where I expected my parents to be for some odd reason. They were there, waiting for me and the first thing they said was, "Go to bed, Sakura." So, as confused as I was, I obeyed. A little while after I layed down, I heard a hoarse scream from the next room over.
"A-ron?" I said, still groggy though I was sure I hadn't got any sleep. "Are you okay?"
Silence.
I stumbled into my brothers room to find and apocolypse. A-ron was using some scrap metal to beat back an odd creature I couldn't recognize. Then it dawned on me:
Monkeys.
Not just any monkeys. The kind with horrible, pus oozing wounds; the kind that didn't care if it lost and arm or a leg, if only it could have a bite of you. No, these weren't any monkeys.
They were zombies.
And they were coming straight towards me. Gone was the one attacking my brother; in it's place were six lumbering creatures with their eyes fixed on me. They'd forgotten him, and they were focusing on slowly, maliciously dragging their partially decomposed bodies towards me.
I was scared out of my wits, but I did the only accceptable thing in a situation like that. Grab the closest object that would work as a weapon and swing. I smashed a head with a hard crack, bringing back my unusually heavy bokan to hit another monkey- this one had eyes the size of golf balls, which would be cute on something, anything else. The one with the damaged leg crept up on my right, his mouth agape with hunger. I stumbled backwards and missed my next swing by at least a foot, disoriented by how real it was. Of course I knew it was a dream; but was it really a dream? Was I absolutely sure I wasn't going to be killed by these things? No, I couldn't trust something like that to the hands of some crazed, flesh eating monkeys. I whipped out of there, relying on the fact that I was fast at climbing stairs than zombie monkeys, and turned into the kitchen. The phone, the phone! I thought frantically, hoping for some kind of backup from the police. No luck. I was alone- but wait, maybe I had some backup after all.
Now normally, I don't ever have weapons in my garage, unless it's a rather large stick or some sharp scrap metal. But when I opened the door, light gleamed off of every weapon imaginable. Katanas, daggers, machetes and broadswords were all line up next to glocks, shotguns and some kind of sleek pistol with infared. And what was that in the corner? Oh yes, a classic: here I come, crazy chainsaw girl on da loose! I ran out of there with my shiny new weapon and rushed into A-ron's room. He was laying in the corner, a stunned expression frozen on his face. As I cut two zombies across the middle, he suddently got up and ran. Really? We're faced with an apocolyptic situation, and he's running away? Goodness. I cut down a few more zombies before he returned, a gleaming sword in his hands.
"Let's do this."
I don't know who said it, but it was on. We were slaying zombies left and right, having a wonderfully homicidal moment, when my chainsaw broke. A-ron kept them off me for a few more beats, but pretty soon he was down, his sword lost. And that was when they bowed.
The monkeys bowed down to me.
Then one moved forward, a smile gleaming in its face. In his right hand was a wicked dagger, curved at the end and covered in dried blood. He lifted it above my pale neck and struck, quick as a viper.
Then nothing but blackness. Thick, inky blackness creeping up around me, suffocating me with its tangible menace.Nothing more.