#audition piece

[maria-azenha]

Audition Piece:

Flashback - Porto Velho Trigger Warnings: PTSD, Drug Use, Death

Hues glance down at her phone, checking it for the millionth time, feeling the anxiety start to bubble in the middle of her chest. He wasn’t one to be late. The constant thought bombarded her mind and she didn’t dare to think at how much longer she had until she had to be on stage. It was a slow process to get back to where she once was, one that twisted on the inside no matter how many times she told herself this wasn’t her fault and to be patient. She had a support team that was there for her, and truly without them, she would have been a lost cause. 

“Sorry,” a muffled voice snaps her attention, quickly rising from her seat. “Traffic.” Maria knew he was teasing her, but she wasn’t in the mood and the annoyance was written across her features. It didn’t stop him from kissing both her cheeks. 

“Jérôme, I don’t have time.” She didn’t mean to snap at him, but the pressure and pain, there was only so much she could handle before she would break. “Do you have it?” Anxious hues glance up at him, desperate for the fix he would give her. 

His head nods, pulling out a small package full of white powder. She plucks it from his hand, the other reaching for cash in her pocket, handing it over to him. What she liked most about him, he never asked her questions. Jérôme kept this strictly business and she could trust him to keep his mouth shut about it. 

“Merci,” a smile finally forms on her lips and she returns the kisses to his cheeks before slipping into the club. If her calculations were correct, she had about fifteen minutes before the next person would show up and by that time she would be at her prime. 

Tucking away into her dressroom, a bag is tossed over the chair along with her jacket, Maria turns to shut the door and lock it. A gust of wind breezes from nowhere, slamming the door shut and the loud  noise causes Maria’s mind to snap. 

 Laughter fills the room, voices of those that matter the most to her, keep her engaged in a conversation. Her third glass of champagne nestled in her hand and the second she brings up the glass, letting the rim rest against her lips a deafening boom drowns out all sounds. Screams instantly follow and she can feel that fear and panic seep into every orifice of her body. She tries to move, to find cover, but her feet are rooted in their spot. Fearful hues quickly glance around, inaudible cries of help leaving her lips, and the next sight sends a chill deep in her bones. 

Guillaume and Jérôme rush to her oblivious of the faceless man standing behind them, raising his gun in their direction. Her voice gone and with flailing hands she tries to warn them, but the next set of boom boom, bullets hit them in the back of the head and their bodies slump to the ground. Dread ripples through her, her heart pounding against her chest and tears stream down her face, and no matter the effort she makes trying to move from her spot to get to them, she can’t. “You should remember your place.” The unknown man mumbles, everything around them vanishing out of sight, only the two of them in the dim light illuminated around them, and one last boom fills her ears. She can feel the unbearable pain in her chest before everything goes black. 

“Maria, are you in there?” A voice calls out, a hand banging on the door. 

Bang. Bang.

The sound pulls her out of her paralyzed thoughts, finding herself curled up in the fetal position on the ground, her cheeks stained with tears. 

“Yeah,” her voice quivers, calling out, “give me five.” Maria picks herself up from the floor, moving over to her vanity table. A hand reaches into her bag pulling out the bag and the credit card she keeps in the side pocket. She had grown quicker in making her lines, letting her hands work their magic, that she was leaning over in seconds, one finger pressed against a nostril and the other snorting the white powder. A powder that would give back part of her life that was taken from her, numbing the pain to allow her to continue to dance and the intrusive thoughts that invaded her consciousness. 

Her dance shoes are removed from her bag, sitting down on top of her bag on the chair to switch them over.It doesn’t take long for the drugs to take its effect, the pain vanishing and she paints on a smile to show others that she is fine by the time she leaving her dressing room, forgetting that minutes ago she was curled up on the floor. 

[mcnicarcdriguez]

Audition Piece

“Monica!”

She groaned, rolling over in a too-soft bed to cover her face with a so comfortable it was too comfortable pillow. She’d been home all of two days, and already her mother, god bless her, was driving her crazy.

“Monica Alejandra Rodriguez Guerrero, you get down here right now!”

Crap. “Coming, mamí!” she cried, flinging her covers away as she leaped out of bed. She didn’t think she’d done anything, but that didn’t necessarily mean she hadn’t. She dressed in a hurry, pulling on the first things she saw that didn’t immediately insult her nose.

Monica took the stairs down two at a time, cursing that her room was on the second floor, that she’d let her parents stick her in it instead of taking the couch for the few days she’d be home, and that she’d decided to sleep in.

She found her mom in the kitchen, stood at the open back door with her hands on her hips.

“Look at this!” her mother cried, jerking a hand out in the direction of the yard without turning around. “You’re not even going to be home a month, and already you can’t help yourself.”

“What?” Monica padded through the kitchen to actually see whatever had her mother all out of sorts. The yard, it turned out, was a mess. There were several holes in the grass, one dug under the fence, and the flowerbed along the back had been torn up in several places. “I didn’t do it!” she protested immediately.

Her mother looked unmoved. “You expect me to believe that? My yard hasn’t looked like this since you were a hormonal teenager running around back here instead of heading out to the hills.”

That was… fair. Technically. But she honestly wasn’t at fault this time. When she’d gone to bed the night before, her head had hit the pillow and stayed there, too exhausted to even think about letting her coyote side galavant around. She sniffed at the air, even going so far as to lean past her mother to do so, which earned her a light smack with the dishtowel. “Look,” she insisted, “that’s dog.” And then, because she was a glutton for punishment, she asked, “Did you leave the back gate unlatched last night?”

“Monica!”

“I’m just saying.”

[stellaflores-firestarter-blog]

                  Drabble. About: The Fateful Fire. The night of Stella’s Aunt’s death.

                  “It was a pleasure to burn.”

A single sentence flashed through Stella’s mind, that had been stuck there for the longest time. It had meant very little -the opening line from a reading assignment left unfinished- but tonight she would understand it in its entirety.

Stella, at thirteen years old, was already bitter and tired and world weary. Her Aunt’s fault, she would insist years later. For nine years she had lived with her Aunt, who felt less like family and more like a distant disciplinarian whom one might imagine as only being written in children’s books by an author proficient in torturing children.

It seemed that her life, which had once been happy and full of light, was doomed to reflect that of Cinderella. With each passing year her chores increased (as did torrents of emotional abuse) and no matter the effort Stella would put in to cleaning the grubby, horrid, old house it was never enough to ease her Aunt’s cruel nature. Eventually Stella’s need to try and ease the suffering gave way to a burning hatred for her Aunt and her home, that one might only expect from someone twice her age.

As the girl scrubbed away at the stove with the remains of a bottle of white wine, and a metal scourer that stung her fingers, she wished to be as cruel as her Aunt for just a single moment. That night she had been particularly volatile and hurtful. Stella felt her rage might boil her alive from the inside out.

                                    “… a pleasure to burn…”

It echoed. Through her mind, it echoed and echoed and grew louder and louder.

                  “… a pleasure…”

The impulse grabbed her by the shoulders and dropped the wine bottle to the floor. She was thirteen years old, she wasn’t even sure if white wine could burn.

So she went to the cupboard.

More wine, half drunk. Now emptied on the floor.

Then the whisky. Then the cooking oil. And anything else that sat below the sink with a flammable sticker.

 Stella saved the most expensive bottle of whisky for last.

 With trembling hands, the girl slid open the utensil drawer to find a small yellow box, emblazoned with a single orange image. She removed a single stick and lifted the red tip close to her face. The adrenaline no longer had her by the shoulders, but was whispering in her ear. Strike…

She complied, watching as the red tip sparked against the yellow box and turned to orange light. The stick burned away and she lit another. And the stick burned away.

With bated breath, Stella crept the stairs to her Aunt’s bedroom door, trailing pungent whisky behind her. The room was silent, which only happened when she was fast asleep. The last drop fell to the floor and she struck another match. It did not have time to snuff itself out before it hit the puddle on the floor.

Pale streaks washed through the soot on her cheeks, as if she had been crying. But the tears were not from sadness or remorse; simply, the smoke stung her eyes and it couldn’t be helped. Stella ran far from the house, and her Aunt; from the flames and the pain, and never looked back.

[archionblu]

Visit Original Link

Feeling nostalgic, so I’m posting my old cello audition pieces, plus a piece(s) that I just played obsessively at odd moments. 

This is my favorite of my audition pieces and I played it for every audition from Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestra to Midwest Young Artists to competitions at my school I had no shame

[swatan-waffle]

i did my audition today and it went pretty decently. decent probably isn’t good enough though

[jordana-velasquez]

Audition Piece

“That is not what I said,” Jordana remained calm, breathing through the phone. The incompetence of the one on the other side had her temples pulsing. Her job was to trust those that she tasked duties with, yet today, it was turning out to be one where she should have done it herself.

“Let me be clear,” she cut them off mid sentence. “You have until I get there to sort it the way it was supposed to be done, otherwise you’ll be dealing with me.” Most knew how short tempered she was and that when she made a promise, she always held to it. 

“I don’t fucking care what your excuses are.” She let silence linger between them, letting the realisation of the threat hang. “Fix. It!” And with that, she hung up on them. 

“Fucking hell.” Jordana curses under her breath, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, counting to ten. They can’t say she didn’t try the bullshit mindfulness strategies to keep her from always being a raging bitch. It was really a them problem and not her. But at times they made it her problem and brought this side of her out. 

The one day where she wanted, no needed, the day to run smoothly it was turning into a shit show. That is what happened when she actually made fucking plans. Why wouldn't she want to celebrate her three year anniversary with their boyfriend? Was that too much to ask? Someone would pay for her money down the drain.

It was the sheer fact that she had put effort into this day that would surprise anyone that knew her. Jordana wasn’t sentimental at heart, that would only show a weakness, but showing her appreciation for Mateo she never did hold back from. Even on the days he drove her fucking mental. 

Annoyance plagued her at the very thought of how she was going to clean up this mess, because no matter the tone of her threat, they never did have it fixed by the time she got there; most times she didn’t give them much time, and considering what today was, she was giving even less. 

There was one thing she expected — capable people who weren't complete idiots. That is all she asked. It wasn’t hard to follow the steps she gave; hell a toddler could do a better job at this very moment.

Pads of fingers pressed into her temples, rubbing them clockwise slowly. We could still make dinner if it isn't that bad.

Who was she kidding, the frantic tone of the lackey meant she was walking into a fucking disaster and she could feel her blood boil. We definitely won’t make dinner.

Jordana closed her eyes once more, focusing on her breathing, picturing herself sitting on a bench watching people walk past, each one a feeling she was currently experiencing. Anger. Annoyance. Disappointment. A Failure. Unable to let the emotion go once they walked past. 

Fuck this.

Her eyes flash open and she reaches for her phone, sending two texts.

Text One: Mi Amor, we will have to reschedule tonight. Business. I'll bring home our favourite dinner and we can watch your movie of choice. Te amo.

The next text, this is where she meant business and anyone who knows her, them, that if they show up together, it wasn't going to end pretty. 

Text Two: [drops location] Meet me here in ten? People need to be reminded that we don't deal with idiots. 

Jordana sent the text to Ayaz, standing from her seat where she tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and grabbed her jacket. 

A few strides had her reaching the door to her office, and exiting, glancing over to the woman sitting at the desk. “I'll be gone for the rest of the day, clear my schedule.” Annoyance laced in her words. “Have the car brought around.” A beat. “Por favor.” It wasn't her assistants fault and it wasn't fair to take it out on her. 

“Yes, Ms. Velásquez.” 

A finger pressed the lift button, her mind wandering to Mateo. She knew he wouldn't show his disappointment, but it always flickered in his eyes. That was the part she hated. Who would have thought there would be someone that she would have put their feelings above hers. 

He was her yang. 

He balanced her.

Her arse buzzed, reaching for her phone the same time the lift door opened, a smile crossing her lips at the message. The door closed shortly after, and hell was about to break loose.

[david-pavoncello]

Loyalty is Shown

“Filthy traitor. It’s only a matter of time until you turn like your father did.”

Dirt covered the front of his body leaving him sprawled out on the ground at the mercy of the men that surrounded him. Those that believed he didn’t deserve the grace that was bestowed upon him by Alessia. His closeness to the Vespucci’s the only reason they allowed him safety among them. That he deserved the same fate that came to those families ruined by  the man that he shared DNA with, and that was all. 

That man was dead to him. For that matter, his whole family was. 

Knees dig into the ground, palms pushing his chest off the ground and wild savage hues glance up at the one standing in front of him. A manic laugh erupted from him, spitting blood at their shoes before the back of his hand swiped across his mouth to clean the rest of it; yet all it seemed to do was smear across his face. A hand rests on his thigh, using what leverage he could to propel himself up, back on his feet. 

“And that is all you have? What a fucking disappointment. Now I can see why you shitholes haven’t made your way up.” Venom echoed from his words. He was in more pain than he was going to let out; the last thing he wanted was to give them any satisfaction. 

“Afraid to take me on yourself?” There was a mocking tone to his voice, a lopsided smirk spreading across his face. His fingers flex, releasing tension before closing once more into fists. David knew the fucker would take the bait and all he needed was to put one of them out on their ass.

"Wouldn't you like that?" The man in front of him took a step forward. Names raced through his mind trying to place one to this face, but it showed how insignificant the asshole was. Too low on the totem pole for him to give a shit; which in turn meant the value of their life within the Sovrani was replaceable. 

There was no need to keep the animal caged. 

“Futtuto idiota.” He snarled, adrenaline pumped through his veins and it was all he needed. Russet hues fixate on the male, all the training he had been through pulling to the forefront of his mind. He was a killer and there would be no mercy given. There would be no holding back. If there was one thing David was taught it was…

…..never back down.

He took a carefully planned step, giving the notion that he was going to make the first move and like he expected the other came at him with a swing. David ducked down, sliding to the left, his right arm pulling to the side, leading into a jab colliding hard with the other’s side. He could hear the cracking of bones and the swoosh of pained air that left the man’s mouth. There was no holding back. 

Before the other could react, his left knee followed after his jab, smashing into the left of his back and finishing off with his left arm coming from behind to wrap around his neck, locking his elbow tight into the front of his throat. 

Feeling the man start to struggle, wiggling to break free, the Italian slides his right arm up underneath his armpit, locking his fingers around his elbow. “You fuckers need to learn your place and respect the chain of command.” He snarls, tightening his grip, blocking the man’s airway. 

His chest heaved, sweating dripping down his back and the fatigue was starting to set in. Not now, a little longer. He kept telling himself, not ready to give up the fight that was inside of him. All he had to do was put one of them down and he was certain the others would tuck their tails between their legs and turn away. 

Well, fuck he was wrong. 

The body within his hold starts to weaken, a triumphant smirk pulled at his features and this was what he needed. He was stupid to think that there would be some honour code that the other three would respect. Wrong! A second later he felt fists bombard his sides, gritting his teeth to stop any groans from escaping. Fuck them.

“Fucking bastards.” He growled out, the body from his grasp breaking free and now all he could do was swing and kick, trying to avoid the blows that repeatedly slammed into his body. He could feel the cage of their bodies holding him in.

“You should have been killed the second the others were taken from us.” One of the voices bellows out. “You will never be one of us.” Another follows, and then a string of other vulgar words filled the air.

He could feel his body start to crumble, falling down to his knees, though it didn’t stop him from keeping his own blows from landing into them; the damage was not nearly the same given to him. David knew it was only a matter of minutes until one of them knocked him unconscious. 

“ENOUGH!” A voice boomed, and instantly he felt the assault halt and the bodies stepping away from him. “What the fuck is going on?” It took David a second before he placed the voice, fumbling to make his way back up to his feet. Blood smeared across his face, coming from his nose and lip. His whole entire fucking body ached and knew there had to be a couple broken ribs and bruises that would litter his skin come the morning. 

He turned in the direction of where the voice came from, frenzy orbs finding Giorgio. He felt eyes rake over him and the rage that filled his gaze. 

The Italian moved around him, causing him to turn at the same time, and the both of them held the attention of the four that thought it smart to take matters in their own hands. 

“I want a good reason why I shouldn’t take the four of you out for what I witnessed.” There was a calmness to his tone that to others would cause no worry, but those that knew Giorgio, knew what the man was capable of and the hell that would soon follow. 

Suddenly the four that had plenty to say about him, his family and what should happen to him were silent. They grouped themselves together, believing that numbers would save them from the wrath that could follow. 

“Get the fuck out of my face before I do.” He snapped, the fury evident in his orbs. 

David watched the four disappear and rage filled him. He wanted to be the one to make them fucking run like the cowards that they were. He growled, his fingers curling into fists. “Fucking bastards.” He snapped, more so at himself for letting them one up him. 

An arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Calm down killer. No point getting too worked up.” The tone that came from the voice was one of a friend. A friend that David was grateful to have on his side. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Giorgio started to walk in the opposite direction. 

“Those fuckers are mine.” He promised, letting his friend lead him away.

[lefebvre-emilia]

                                  A Night To Remember

“Veuillez rester ce soir. Je veux que tu sois en sécurité.”

Those were the words her brother asked of her. 

Stay home and be safe. 

It felt wrong not going to support him. A part of her felt like she was betraying him. Emilia should have pressed more to attend, but another idea came to her mind. The main reason she had moved to London. It was the perfect opportunity and she would be stupid to let it pass. 

Time was of the essence and the blonde riffled through her closet looking for the perfect outfit. Tonight she had to blend in a different way. An emerald spaghetti strap bodycon dress that came mid-thigh lay on her bed and she found her knee high boots that she would pair with it. It wasn’t her expensive clothes, but ones she kept for jobs like this. There was one piece missing, something that would tie it altogether. She reached high for a hat box on the top shelf in her closet, taking it over to her bed where she lifted the lid off. Inside held an assortment of wigs and she chose a medium length red one. 

Emilia knew how to work quickly and put together what she would call a masterpiece. Her look would definitely draw attention the way she needed. He would have looked. That thought surprised her and she quickly pushed it away; filing it back where it belonged. There was no need to take a trip down memory lane. 

She was able to slip out of her apartment in a trench coat the back way. With most either at the engagement party or at fight club, it would leave the bigger players off the streets and she could find more information on her mission – take down Vorshevsky’s human trafficking. 

Her car nestled in the darkness of a side street, blocks away from the corners she wanted to visit, and she took a deep breath. Emilia carefully placed on her wig, making sure it all lined up before painting her lips crimson red. She rubs them together before giving a small popping sound. Her eyeshadow is done in a smokey look, letting her green eyes shine. Lastly, she pulled on her thigh gun holster, tucking her glock 17 in. She never left home without it.

“Je serai en sécurité,” she whispered to herself, the same words she uttered to her brother before he left.

The night air was crisp and cool, easy to tell that autumn was close, the summer heat slowly fading away. The Frenchwoman tossed her coat into the car before locking it. Fingers curled around the strap of the small bag she brought, slipping her keys inside and she looked off into the distance. “Let’s do this.” Determination set and her mind fixated on the only thing that mattered. 

Confident heels click down the sidewalk, moving into the seedier side of the city until she comes upon a small group of women dressed worse than her. Her heart drops to her stomach and she can’t help but picture her mother; a woman she would never meet. Her blood boiled and rage took over. They all had to pay!

Calm down or you will blow it.

These women were scared and forced into prositution. They were promised a better  life to leave the miserable one they had, only brought to something more horrifying. Drugged up to be compliant and follow orders easily. Dependent on a substance that they would do anything for, including selling their body to the Devil. A double edged sword no matter how they looked at it. 

Cautiously she made her way over. Emilia could tell they were already hesitant with her approach. “Witam, jestem Paula. Jestem nowy. You speak English?” Learning Polish was important to her growing up, it made her feel connected to her mother. She was honouring her in her own way. 

“She no say new girl.” The girl's English was broken but there was fear in her eyes. They had broken her spirit and it showed. Jade orbs glance around the area, looking for any bodies that might be hiding in the shadows. That was her first instinct, to see if anyone was watching them. There was usually their handler not too far and she wanted to be ready for him. 

“She? I forgot her name.” Emilia had to be smart when she poked a little. “Blonde, tall.” She had a good idea who it was. “Cold and cruel.” Her facial expressions stayed confused, playing the part she needed to. 

The look in both of their eyes gave it away, but she needed to hear it. Emilia needed to hear the bitches name. This would give her the incentive to push harder and know the areas to look into. The silence lingered between them and she felt the moment might be slipping and she was losing them. 

Then one spoke.

“Zhana” She barely heard the word whispered, but she did. 

“Kakogo khrena ty delayesh'? Vernut'sya k rabote!” A male’s voice yelled and her eyes snapped to him. 

Their handler. 

Emilia stepped to the side, turning so he couldn’t see her face. She didn’t want to give him anything to remember her by in case they met again.

Be safe.

The girls apologised profusely, quickly moving away further down the street. He looked at her, catching him from the corners of her eyes. There were deadly thoughts going on in her head on how to handle the situation when the best course was to leave with all alive. She didn’t want to draw any attention.  

“Do you not speak Russian? Back to work you worthless piece of shit. You have one job to do.” His words were laced with venom and disgust. It made her skin crawl and there was no holding back. Emilia snapped and there could be consequences to her actions, but he was low on the food chain and easily replaced. 

“Skazhi D'yavolu, chto ya pozdorovalsya.” Tell the Devil I say Hi.

She reached between her legs for her glock, turning her body to face him. Holding it with one hand, it points in his direction and before he could react she let her finger press greedily against the trigger. Adrenaline surged through her body and for her, it heightened her senses. Everything around her starts to fade away, only seeing him.

Bang! 

A single bullet springs free, the kick back jarring her arm, but her body keeps locked in position. It hits him right in the middle of his eyes. A wicked grin turns at the corners of her mouth and she watches the body fall to the ground. Her body buzzes from the adrenaline and she is ready to unload the rest of the bullets in his body.  

Screams snap her back to reality and she realises they are coming from the girls she was speaking to earlier. That was her cue to get the fuck out of there. She slips into the shadows and quickly makes her way back to her car before reinforcements show up. There was no point being outnumbered. Her heart pounded against her chest and even though it wasn’t the one she wanted to shoot, she felt better knowing there would be one less Russian scumbag in the world.