My Writing

She sat down, surprised that she had made it up on to the stage. Nervousness ran through every bone as she contemplated the preparation it had taken to get here. Hours of slaved confines she had given to this. Now it was time for her payment, as she touched her five fingers to the keyboard of that baby grand. She started out with a scale, but stumbled on the seventh note. In shock, she pulled away. She had humiliated herself, and her head shrank into her shoulders as her eyes wandered towards her feet. Everyone was laughing at her, but she knew she must continue. She started again, praying that she would not fall victim to the hollers of the keyboard, giggling because she had tickled it. As she got past the first scale, she forgot where she was.

Within a moment’s flash she had fallen victim to the serene, beautiful sound that her fingers caused. She was in the middle of her house, convinced that the beauty she saw there was beyond all comprehension, as she then slowly walked into her piano room. She sat down and cried. She poured out her soul, and talked about everything wrong. As she rested her head against the top board of that grand piano, it whispered to her, Play my music. Play my century old ivories with invigoration and depth and the anger that is you. Play me! You created this music, you must not give up!

Scared of what would become her fate if she did not, she touched the A note. It rang in her head and she screamed, through the tips of her fingers, she screamed so hard and so loud that she had forgotten what would become of this moment, this hour, this lifetime. Her fingers pounded away at the music that she was creating, and passions and emotions filled within her. Each note was beautiful, but not in the ordinary sense. It was beautiful because it was honest, it was true, and it would never betray her, never! As she continued on she saw blacks and whites and grays coloring her world, not allowing for the brilliant color to come in. Slowly, reds were allowed to grace their presence within her world, and yet she was not aware of what would become of them, except that it infuriated her. She played harder, so angry at the red for ruining her perfect life. Damn you! She yelled within her head. She played harder at the keyboard until everything left her. Blue slowly seeped through the holes. She could not be angry, for she had been angry for too long. The blue was not intimidating, besides. Instead, it comforted her, and cried with her for everything she had lost. Long hours were spent holding on to the blue, and the blue never told her. It never told her until she felt better.

She was serene now, mellow and calm. She was lost without energy, when Yellow came and embraced her. She held on long to Yellow, for Yellow was beautiful, and was everything that she dreamed to be. Yellow invigorated her, and helped her see that there was a new place for her, a place where everything could be achieved with constant dedication, and that she could make amazing things happen. Yellow was happy, and did not choose to change. She was happy Yellow was there, and wished Yellow never to leave. Yellow faintly told her, Finish. Finish this masterpiece that you have started, and make it the most eloquent of masterpieces ever heard. You are beautiful, and so is what you have created. You must finish!

At the encouragement, she finished the piece with vigor and admiration. The piano, her piano, applauded her, exclaiming the incredible feat that was accomplished. But her piano would not stay, instead it had to leave her. I love you, the piano told her. She cried and cried and closed her eyes shut until she arrived again to that horrible stage. Silence, sickly silence, filled the room, and she cried. She cried for what she had found, and for what was lost. She had given it her all, but had given nothing as well. As she walked off the stage, everything went dark, and she screamed.