In the hollow hallway, against the
bulletin board, the art majored freshman, Dygta Melvyn stood with a sling bag
strapped across his shoulder. The announcement paper that was pinned on the
board’s lower part forced his lanky body to bend down as he tried to read what
it said. He kept his grip tight on the strap of his bag as he mumbled.
He
seemed to be in a rush. It seemed like he was chased by someone. Or something.
No. It was time. He was chased by the time that was ticking toward the break
time. He checked on his watch, the break time approached. As he heard the
footsteps came across the hall, he started shaking. His fellow college students
stepped out of the classrooms to fill up the empty corridor. But he saw it
differently. He saw ‘hundreds of hungry dogs freed from the cage hunting for a
bone’. He thought that he was the bone.
A
girl came approaching. As she said “Hi”, he straightened up his body in reflex.
Sweats ran down his throat. He turned around facing the girl. He gave a quirky
smile and started to run. He kept running unstoppably all the way through the
corridor, across the yard and found himself before the campus gate. It was
there that he could finally release his long and heavy breath along a whisper,
“Ah, I’m free.”
He
stepped his feet off the campus. He paced forward, leaped homeward. He tried to
keep the smile floating on his face. But as he noticed a stranger staring at
him, that very smile sank. He felt intimidated by those glaring eyes, thinking
if he was doing something wrong. Was it his shirt that was unbuttoned? Was it
his shoes that were not in pair? Or was it just the people that didn’t
understand him? These questions kept him hanging with an acute self
consciousness and social anxiety disorder, thinking that people might see his quirky,
awkward traits and silence as threats and disgraces in society.
Dygta
Melvyn was a son of a wealthy businessman and business woman. Every day as he
came home after a tiring day he spent so awkwardly and anxiously at campus, he
found nobody but the butler that he hardly spoke with. His parents were just
too busy, left him alone with nobody to talk to.
His
only friend was just his guitar with which he hung out in the silent cabin that
he discovered hiding under the woods in the back of his house. Seven days a
week he spent his solitary moments avoiding people’s judgment by playing
guitar, singing and composing songs in that wooden cabin. It was the only place
where he could hear his voice echoing so loudly with nobody else could hear.
“La,
la, la, la, la, la, la… la, la, la, la… Hey, Jude! La, la, la, la, la, la, la…
la, la, la, la… Hey, Jude!” he screamed The Beatles song out loud all day from
the time he got back from campus until the twilight brought him back to sleep.
That
creaky hut was his hidden fortress, keeping him away from society and sealing
him within rhymes and tones. The old cabin had become his only escape place
from people’s judgment toward his quirky attitudes. After campus he went
straight there spending the rest of his days playing guitar, singing and
composing songs. Though it seemed creepy, he found comfort and inner peace in
that quiet, hollow place.
It
was Guns N’ Roses day for him. He spent the afternoon strumming the guitar
singing November Rain. “Sometimes I need some time on my own… Sometimes I need
some time all alone… Everybody needs some time on their own… Don’t you know you
need some time all alone?” He sang the cold song with full emotion.
As
he struck the E minor chord, he was startled by the sound of a tree clattering
outside the cabin. “Thwack, thwack.” the sound of the chopped tree bothered
him. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He saw a silhouette outside the
cabin. He started trembling. His body was shaking. Suddenly, the voice from the
silhouette froze him standing stationary.
“Why
are you stopping, son? Slash would be disappointed if he knew that his song was
sung halfway. Hit me with the last lines! Just as you finish the song, I’m sure
I’ll be having enough woods for my fireplace,” it was a sixty-something year old
carpenter who happened to hunt for fire crackers in that silent woods.
Dygta
was scared and confused. He watched the man thoroughly for a while. As he
watched the old man moved away, he came back into the cabin. His body shook as
he watched out the cabin. He regained control of his body. He rushed back home
in a minute. He was still confused about that mysterious man. The confusion
kept hovering above his head on the following day until he came back to the
cabin in the afternoon. He looked around the woods. Nobody he saw. He was
relief. He started to play a couple of songs from The Cranberries. Suddenly he
heard the woods clattering again.
“Thwack,
thwack,” the axe of the carpenter struck the trees. The old man turned to face
Dygta and marked him with a very warm smile.
“Just
My Imagination… Oh, this song reminds me of a girl that I used to know. She was
really addicted to this band. Almost every day she put earphones around her
head listening to Cranberries,” The old man muttered.
He
hummed the song that Dygta was playing. After a little while, the old man
slowly disappeared from Dygta’s sight.
This
happened every day. Dygta came back to the cabin to play a few songs. He heard
the thwacking sound from the old man who gave him a smile and hummed every song
that he played. This left Dygta quite anxious and curious about that old man.
At first he was scared to ask the carpenter, but then his curiosity was finally
able to pull in his guts to talk to the old man. Just one day…
“Thwack,
thwack.”
“Umm.
Ex… Excuse me, sir…” Dygta stammered.
“Hello,
young man! What song will you sing for me today?” The old man was giving him a
curios smile.
“Umm.
Act… Actually I’m not sure that I caught your name sir. I’m… I’m sorry, who are
you by the way?” Dygta stammered.
“Ahaha.
I’m really sorry kid. How stupid I am. Just call me Ridley. That’s how most
people know me. I live on the other side of the woods, raising my old ranch.
The farm and these woods are my living. I make fire woods out of these trees.
Speaking of the woods, almost every day I see you here. Do you live here?”
“Umm…
Actually…Actually my house is just in the front side of the woods, but…I just
prefer to stay here,” Dygta answered, still a bit trembling.
“Oh,
I see. Well, why don’t you play a couple more songs for me?” Mr. Ridley
continued to cut the trees while letting Dygta play his guitar. Dygta was a bit
reluctant at first. He grabbed his guitar, plucked it till the old man faded
away.
Things
went the same for about a few weeks. For some time Dygta felt quite uncomfortable
and so awkward about the situation, but time helped him get used to it. Mr.
Ridley’s smile every day they met seemed to be a warm charm for Dygta. It was
so warm, melting his cold feeling toward the carpenter. Slowly they got close.
“Cutting
another tree, huh, Mr. Ridley?” Dygta asked the carpenter one day. “You see
what you see, kid, hahahaha. Hey, why don’t you give me a hand out here? You
can chop wood, can’t you?” Mr. Ridley jokingly asked the young man. “Well…”
Dygta approached the man, picked up the axe, and swung it toward the trunk of a
big tree. Shockingly, the axe slipped off his hands and flew away, pierced on
the trunk. Both men were shocked. They laughed hysterically at how clumsy the
young man was.
Things
got better and better between them each day. Mr. Ridley trained Dygta how to
use an axe. They played guitar and sang songs together. He didn’t felt so
intimidated by the old man. He felt so free when they sang together. They sang
in a wooden cabin in the woods.
“Wooden
cabin…” Dygta whispered. “Sorry. What?” The old man asked.
“No,
I was just wondering. In these past few days I’ve got a little idea about a
song. Here, listen,” Dygta invited Mr. Ridley to listen to the song that he’d
been composing. He struck a few notes and let the old man catch the melody.
“Wooden
cabin in the woods, say goodbye to the crowd. It is always feel so good, cause
we can scream it out loud. All night, all day, all the time. All night, all
day, until we die,” Mr. Ridley burst few lines as Dygta strummed the guitar.
“Wooden
Cabin in the Woods… That sounds great!” Dygta got excited. “Oh, the creaky
tree, chopped down by the old carpenter’s axe, its leaves falling down,
withered on the ground, beneath the woods,” he added some lines. They spent the
evening striking notes, rhyming words, finishing the song of Wooden Cabin in
the Woods.
They
sang it along every day. It became their anthem. Until one cloudy day, things
got confusing for Dygta. As he reached home, out of his habit, he somehow
turned on his radio. “Wooden cabin in the woods, say goodbye to the crowd,” he
scraped his ears, thinking that he might misheard the radio.
“Wooden
Cabin in the Woods by Mr. Ridley,” the radio caster mentioned the title that
struck Dygta. What happened? Mr. Ridley? What did that mean? He got thousands
inquiries on his head. He confronted the old man in the cabin.
“Mr.
Ridley, I don’t understand. What does it mean?” Dygta demanded the old man an
explanation.
“What
are you talking about?”
“Why
is Wooden Cabin in the Woods airing on the radio with your voice?”
“I
recorded it. I sent a demo of the song to the local radio. So what? That song
was a failure anyway.” Indeed. The song didn’t attract any listeners.
“Why
didn’t you tell me about this? What do you mean by ‘a failure’?”
“Listen
kid. Don’t be naïve! Why do you think I would spend almost all my days here
with you? I’ve listened to all of your songs. Can’t you see it? I want to steal
your idea. Your songs were great, I thought. But I was wrong! Stealing an idea
of music from a man who has a low taste of music was a mistake. I regret
wasting my time for this,” Mr. Ridley broke Dygta’s heart.
“Who’s
the man who has low taste of music? Me?” Dygta asked naively.
“Of
course you, you fool! You know what? Your music is worthless! Music is
worthless! Do you remember the girl that I told you who liked Cranberries? She
died because of music! She went deaf by the earphones! She got crazy and
committed suicide! Music cannot make you anything! You are not a good musician!
You’re not even a musician! Prove me that I’m wrong! I guess you can’t,” Mr.
Ridley left the woods as Dygta felt so betrayed.
The
young man couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that the man who he
considered as the only guy he could be free with had betrayed him. He couldn’t
believe that he said music was worthless. He couldn’t accept that. “Prove me
that I’m wrong.” That voice was still resounding in his head. He felt so upset,
so furious and challenged by that sentence. He kept thinking about it. He
decided to accept the challenge.
He
took his guitar and decided not to come to the cabin anymore. Since then, every
day after campus he went straight to his room. He grabbed his guitar and
plucked and jammed on it, trying to create a masterpiece of his own. His
ambition of proving how wrong Mr. Ridley was really got into him, draining his
consciousness. The only things that he could think about were only tones,
rhymes, rhythm, melody, verse, strings and sound.
At
campus as the teacher gave lecture, he was taking notes of words for a
mesmerizing lyric. As he walked on the hallway running into fellow students, he
saw them as musical instruments. As he passed by people, whistles dragged him
into an illusion where those people were the trees in the woods, the trees that
bounced back his voice, creating echoes. He was dragged into a musical
illusion.
That
illusion, however, was in his favor. As a month passed, he finally finished a
song that he called “I Could Run, I Could Fly”. The song was created to justify
his belief in music. Thanks to his parents’ wealth, he could record the song,
created demo CDs. He sent them to all radio stations in town and out of town.
In
only few days, his hard work was actually paid off. Every radio station played
his song. It was a hit. Suddenly people talked about the song. He was right.
Music was not worthless. His musician life began. The success of the song
hitting the public triggered him to create more songs and improve his music
skill.
In
a few months his name spread out in national radio and TV stations. He even
created one extended plays album on his own. Slowly he became a music raising
star. He’d been playing guitar for most of his life, but he could only show
what he’d got just after his belief in music was challenged. He didn’t realize
it yet, that a man who used to be so self conscious, socially anxious, avoiding
the crowd and afraid of people’s judgment had changed into a man who had full
of self confident, self esteem, surrounded by the crowd and never think about
what others might think about him. The only thing that he cared about was just
music that led him to an invitation for an interview in one of national TV
programs.
“Welcome
back to Sam on Music. I am Sam Johnson. Our today’s guest is the new raising
star in music world, Dygta Melvyn! His debut album reached a high rank on music
chart. So, Dygta, how do you feel about this achievement that you’ve got right
now?” the interviewer opened the show.
“Well,
thank you for having me here. I am really grateful for being given a chance to
share my music. It’s such an honor to be able to feel this euphoria.”
“So,
what do you think to be the factors of your success right now?”
“Well,
music is my religion. It’s the only thing that makes me feel alive, but some
people just underestimate music. I guess I just want to make people to be more
respectful with music, that’s my strongest motivation.”
“Wow
that was great! Honestly, your first song didn’t quite catch my attention, but
now, almost every people sing your songs. It’s really great.”
“Well,
thanks. But, do you really think ‘I Could Run, I Could Fly’ that bad?
Considering what happens to me now, it was the root of my success today.”
“No,
I mean Wooden Cabin in the Woods. It was written by you, right? We’ve searched
for your background history before you became a star as you are today, and
we’ve found out that you wrote this song and it was airing on the local radio.
And much to our surprise, it was kind of a failure back then. So, what was your
trick that now people can accept your music?”
“Wooden
Cabin in the Woods sung by Mr. Ridley?”
“Was
it Ridley? We were not sure but as what we’ve found out, you were credited for
the song as the writer. Wasn’t that you? Oh, wait, we have to take a break for
a while so, stay tuned,” the interviewer cut the shot.
Dygta
was shocked by what the interviewer said. He couldn’t believe that he was
actually credited for the song. What did that mean? What did actually happen?
This intrigued him. It had been a year since the last time he went to the woods
and he decided to go there, confronting Mr. Ridley.
As
he reached the woods, he found nobody. No sound of chopped tree, or thwacking,
or a swinging axe. He entered the cabin, and much to his dismay, the old
carpenter laid down against the floor, half conscious.
“Mr.
Ridley! What happened? What is going on? Damn, I am so lost!” Dygta shockingly
grabbed the old man’s body.
“Hey…
kid… What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on stage right now?” the old man
held his last breaths for Dygta.
“What
happened to Wooden Cabin in the Woods? Why didn’t you tell me that I was
credited for it? Tell me, what else are you hiding from me?” Dygta demanded as
he tried to hold the tears.
“Kid…Do
you still remember the deaf girl…that committed suicide? She was… my daughter.
She was just like you. Music was her only escape from society…until she lost
it. As she went deaf she got so depressed… She couldn’t deal with society… her
only hope in music was destroyed… Her life was ruined, and I couldn’t help
her,” the old man told the story as his breathing got worse. “I’ve been
watching you all the time… and I didn’t want it to happen to you. You have a
great talent in music… so that’s why I tried to show your talent to the world.
But I guess I’ve failed,” the old man confessed everything.
“What
are you saying? You were the one that has made me a superstar! You helped me
create songs! You helped me grow my ambition! You helped me show myself to the
world without being cautious with people’s judgment! Why didn’t you tell me the
truth?”
“I
don’t know, son. I guess… it supposed to be like this. Thanks for betraying
you… now I got so lonely. I always considered you as my own son… but I betrayed
you… I failed you. I guess this is my time… to bid you farewell.”
“No,
old man! What are you saying? You have to see me become a real superstar! Pull
yourself together! Come on!” Dygta could not hold his tears anymore. He shed
tears. The teardrops landed on the veteran’s face.
“Take
care… kid. Keep making great songs so I can rest in peace… Promise me… that
you’ll never escape life again… Just face it. Don’t give a damn for whatever
people might think about you… That’s how you roll, rocker…”
“Old
man…” Dygta was speechless. The tears kept running down his cheeks. He felt
guilty for abandoning the old man.
“Would
you sing our song for the last time for me?” Mr. Ridley called out his last
request for Dygta.
Dygta
sobbingly whispered their anthem. As he sang, the old man’s eyes got weary and
his sight faded. His breath got weaker and slower until his heart stopped
beating. Dygta lifted the carpenter’s dead body. He dug a hole outside the
cabin. He buried the old man’s body along with the memories they’d spent
together. He wept, mourned for the old man who’d changed his life. He kept
singing their anthem, escorting the deceased as his soul ascended to heaven.
“Wooden cabin in the woods, say goodbye to the crowd
It is always feel so good, cause we can scream it
out loud
All night… all day… all the time
All night… all day… until we die
Oh, the creaky tree, chopped down by the old carpenter’s
axe
Its leaves falling down withered in the ground,
beneath the woods.”
