prologue

prologue

When Will Young

closes his eyes and lies down to sleep, he doesn’t see darkness. He doesn’t find relief. He does not feel peace.

When Will Young closes his eyes at night, he dreams. The dreams plague him, suffocate him and render him impotent.

And when morning comes, Will faces life with the battle-hardened sternness of a man with too many demons.

He’s learned to hide his scars because the world wants nothing to do with his fear, with his sorrow, with his pain.

The world knows him as Big Will, the giant keyboard player for the internationally acclaimed reggae band,

Dust and Ashes

.

The handsome band member with the grim features and the muscled physique. They see what they want to and that suits Will just fine.

Dust and Ashes

’ success never caught Will by surprise. The way he, Jace, and Trey lived for music, it was just a matter of time before the world took notice.

Will only marveled that the color of their skin kept hampering their progress. It was different for all of them.

Jace Kelly loved music because it shaped his identity, it answered every existential question that he had.

Who am I?

What am I here for?

Music replied and brought clarity every time.

Trey Johnson used music as a means of expression. Anger, sadness, fear, they were fueled through his thick arms and into wooden sticks.

And with every pound, anger slipped away, sadness bowed to peace, and fear made way for courage. Trey banished every feeling, every thought beneath the expert striking.

Boom, boom, tap

.

Yet, both his friends existed outside of music. It was a right, not a privilege for them to play. They approached with no reverence, and very little gratitude.

This was by no fault of their own. They had not been through hell. They had not been brought back to life by a melody.

Music, to Will, was his way of putting one foot in front of the other every day.

It was his only link to survival, to life. When he placed his hands on ivory keys, breathing in the scent of potential, the essence of songs yet unwritten, he came alive.

Will loved every instrument and had learned long ago to surrender to the strings, the brass, and the drums. Yet, the keyboard held a special power over him.

The sea of white was always interrupted by the black keys. White. Black. Innocence. Evil. They created chaos in Will’s soul, but on the keyboard, he was a god.

Control sat beneath his fingertips. Destiny responded to the gentlest pressure. Fate moaned beautiful things when he played a chord.

Every time Will touched an instrument, a little piece of his soul was healed; a fractured mirror of his heart was sewn back to the cracked surface.

He became whole for a few moments and the feeling remained long after withdrawing his hand from the keys.

It was Will and music. And then he found a Kingdom that promised peace and it became: The King, Will and music.

He had nothing else to offer. No space in his head for distractions.

The King, Will, and music.

His heart could not handle any more.