I understand now. I understand so well, I want to laugh and laugh and laugh. Laugh until everyone stares at me like I’m crazy… And I might be, maybe. You can never be quite so sure.
I guess I’ll have to start at the beginning then. Fine. My father: my father was – is – a carpenter, a good one at that. He makes furniture and sculptures, working out of a small shop. Every once in a while he gets a few rich customers, and sells a few good pieces. It was a reliable life, calm, serene, happy. Well… everyone else was. I felt… edgy. Off. People talked about relaxation and calm, while I skittered around like an ‘excited rabbit’ as my mother put it.
Father wanted me to become a carpenter like him. Why not? I would know my teacher, and it was a simple, honest craft, as he put it. Basic. He tried describing to me the contentment and joy of etching words and designs into the soft surface, matching colors and varnishes, and building something with my own two hands. All I saw was… wood. Just wood. And a job that was boring, smelly, messy, and gave me splinters. For some reason he never seemed to get splinters. I always did.
So that was why, when it came time for me to choose where I wanted to apprentice, I didn’t choose carpentry. It wasn’t much of a surprise by then, however, the surprise was my decision. I wanted to be a Shadow-Speaker.
When I first brought up the intention, I created an uproar among my family. Shadow-Speakers were the only common users of magic… and even at that point, they weren’t common. But… they weren’t uncommon either. Just that sort of in between. Everyone else who used the mystic arts was priests and priestesses, having been given the power of the gods. Because of this, some Shadow-Speakers were distrusted for the ‘unnatural’ use of magic… though they weren’t trusted for other reasons as well. More legitimate ones.
The second reason was simple: there had never been a boy Shadow-Speaker. It was silly! All were women, for some reason or another. Some said because all women were more persuasive and subtle… but as if men were not as well. Anyone could be secretive in that way. It was a boundary to leap, but one I didn’t care about. It was what I wanted, after all.
Then came the questions of why. Why why why. They couldn’t seem to stop. Why not carpentry, even though I clearly despised it? I’d prepared myself for this, so had several good arguments of my own. I was always better at talking than fighting, people said. I could talk myself out of any battle… though I knew adults who were better. Those merchants who wheedled money out of unsuspecting shoppers? My role models… though everyone else disliked them for that.
Excuse number one. I like shadows. I hate the summer heat, and instead like being inside, being in the dark. Wasn’t that the most obvious sign? I could sometimes feel shadows moving too, though I didn’t mention that. It scared me a little. Shadow-Speakers were people who found their own shadow, and worked with it as a companion. They had to like the dark.
Excuse number two. I had the perfect mentality. Persuasive, talkative, quiet at times. Contemplative. The one Shadow-Speaker I’d met had been just like that, brooding to herself, and chatting with her shadow. Half the time, they talked with their shadow, it was said. All I knew about the profession was the gossip, though… Shadow-Speakers didn’t talk about themselves. Only a few things were allowed to leak out. Sometimes jobs were unreliable because of that, and they had to travel.
It talked and talked, trying to explain to my folks why I wanted this. Eventually, I had to fall back on my last card. Not any epic idea, however. Just… they couldn’t influence my decision. The whole idea of youth picking their future at 15 was to ensure they knew what they were doing, and understood the options. Other people didn’t pick for them, they couldn’t change it. So I threw that at them, and walked out. Luckily it was the day before my choosing, so I spent the night with a friend, in order to avoid my parents’ disapproving stares.
So my choosing came and went. There were a few gasps and stares when I proposed the idea, but the Shadow-Speaker representative gave me a quick look-over and nodded. I’d never seen her before, and she was a bit intimidating… but I stood straight and gave her a neutral look. I was good at neutral looks. She gave me one in return.
And so went the event. It was tempting to stick my tongue out at my family as I went past, but I pretended not to see them instead. I didn’t need them anymore. I was probably going to regret the bitter dislike in a few days, but for now, I was content to hold a grudge. They’d argued against my choice, and I had proved them wrong. It was a little maliciously disturbing, in retrospect. What had I been thinking? All those negative thoughts… make me shudder.
I was quickly introduced to the woman who would be my tutor for the next few years. Amelia Rowen. She was calm and quiet, a little attractive, though it was obvious she wasn’t trying very hard. She dressed in simple but quality clothes, with a single piece of jewelry… a pair of white opal earrings, dangling gently from the lobes. Her hair was a dark color, nearly black, though I could still distinguish the brown without too much sunlight.
While I observed her, she instantly changed my view of ‘Shadow-Speaker’ and ‘Apprenticeship’ around.
“You’ll not be studying with me too long. Just a week of lessons, in preparation, and you’ll be off to find your shadow then. As long as I find you suitable, of course.” She smirked, just a little, as I gaped. A week? A week of training, before I… what?! It makes sense now, as everything does, but at the time… I was flabbergasted. I quickly regained my composure, however, closing my wide open jaw and calming my stare. She looked almost pleased at the quick reaction.
“A week? That’s… not much time,” I said with slight surprise, managing to hide the shock from earlier. She simply nodded, again smirking… was it at my ignorance? Thinking back… probably. I was so ignorant then. Gods, everyone was. Laughable.
I trailed after her, and she gave me a place to stay, explaining that there was little to teach, until I had my own shadow. She kept hesitating on the word, like she was unused to it. I noticed it, but didn’t think too much on it. Maybe she called them by a different word. Companion? Friend? How could shadows be friends? I was sure I’d learn it later on, however.
It was true that there was little to learn. A bit on shadow mentality, a bit of acting and speech practice for fun, and the history of Shadow-Speakers as a whole. It was painfully vague, however. All so different from my simple and direct family back home. The contempt disappeared after a while, as I’d predicted, and I began to miss them a bit. Mostly because of our bad exit. Maybe I’d say hello after I found my shadow.
As I waited, growing tenser and more worried –or was it excited? – by the day, I found myself wondering about what my shadow would be like. Amelia was so vague, barely telling me anything that I couldn’t quite say. Finally it came though. That seventh day. The day I’d head out into the woods and find… what would I find? I didn’t know. A shadow, obviously. But what kind of shadow? What would it be like? The morning before, I trembled in excitement, despite my slight training in hiding such things.
I was sent out at early dawn, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, creating long deep shadows. Shadows… there were so many. Which would be mine? Or were the shadows we talked about something else? If so, where did they come from. After a week of learning, how could I still have so many questions? They’d all be answered, however. Soon.
I found a quiet little rock by a stream and sat, unsure of what to do. The process hadn’t been explained after ‘enter the forest’, so I decided waiting would be best. Not getting lost would be better. The trickle of water against pebble sent me into a quiet lull, staring blankly at the mossy ground for… how long? I couldn’t say. Ages. It felt like that, at least. It could have been fifteen minutes for all I knew.
And then it came. Not a moving shadow, like I’d expected. Something picking itself up the ground. Nothing like that. Just… a voice. Quiet and wispy, that sounded like it came from everywhere at once.
“Hello,” it said simply, causing me to look up in surprise. There was nothing around me, nothing changing or moving. The shadows were still there, from the rising sun. Did it come from there?
“Hello?” I replied in kind, voice a question.
“Hello.” Was it mocking me? Maybe. Gods, there was so little I knew!
“Are you a shadow?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Your definition of ‘a shadow’”
“What Amelia was talking about.” It felt lame and childish, but what else was I to say? I couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. It probably didn’t even know Amelia… but I was wrong.
“Rowan? Sort of. She knows me as shadow. But the shadows she told you about are off.”
“Off how?” I was confused. I saw myself in third person for a moment, talking to nothing in particular. Did other people see this, when a Shadow-Speaker talked to a shadow? I did catch the lack of ‘a’ in his it’s first statement, however.
“Well, first off, she spoke about them as plural. There she is wrong. There is only one shadow.” I stared. One shadow? Stupid. I could see plenty before me! Each Shadow-Speaker had their own, didn’t they? But… why would it lie? To mess with me? That was too likely a situation, so I took the defensive.
“Riiight. One shadow. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I always like this part.” It practically giggled. I scowled at nothing, annoyed at the mockery. Slowly, however, something moved. The shadows moved, up along one tree, creating a silhouette as tall as I am on a thick trunk. The silhouette of a large, antlered stag, tall and proud. I glanced behind me to see if there was any such deer, but… I was alone. Except for this shadow, of course.
“All shadows are one. Me. The Shadow-Speakers don’t talk of me… but they all know. They’re all just so good at keeping secrets, you see. And now, I will adopt you. You will become one of mine. All you need is a name…” The voice came from a direction now, from this inky black stag on a trunk. It’s speech sent my mind whirling, accusing it of lying, mocking me, messing with me… but I couldn’t push myself to say anything. A name? Why would I need a name? I had a name. And what did it mean by adopt?
“Anler. I am a stag, and I have antlers. Anler is just a shortened form of antler, since that doesn’t really sound like a name.” He mused, muttering a little. I finally blurted out my confusion.
“I don’t understand,” I complained. It was probably the most honest statement of my life. So the stag explained. And I listened in silence.
And understood.
by Gale Austin McCenry on February 3rd, 2014, 12:43 am 
You wouldn't happen to live in Georgia would you? Haha, my school takes three concert bands to competition, each about 100 people! It gets a bit hectic, but our marching season is even bigger. 
And we just love intimidating smaller bands, so...
The word 'expressive' was mentioned a lot. We eventually translated it into 'add dynamics changes and accents where you see fit'. Also, there were a lot of unintentional solos... if one of the first trumpets (of which, I think, there are two) made a mistake... you could hear it. Easily. Nearly an ensemble in that area, but not quite