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An Echo In the Silence
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An Echo In the Silence |
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Altameria Junior Member
since 2000-01-23
Posts 22Whitby, Ontario, Canada |
An Echo in the Silence The room lay blanketed in darkness, save for a sliver of moonlight that played across a corner of the chamber hall; and amidst the shadows and the ghostly pale light she sat. The room lay buried in silence, save for the ticking of an old grandfather clock; and amidst the quiet reminder of wasted years she began to play. She reached out for it - black as ice; reflecting any light that spilled across it - and against the moonlight the grand piano seemed to swallow her up. Its keys were cool to the touch, and heavy beneath her caress. Her fingers, long and graceful, pounded out the notes, hard and steady yet with the gentle embrace of a lover. The notes, low and mournful, rang out; cried out to the darkness, seeking solace; seeking truth; seeking absolution. Her hands continued their slow retreat over the keys playing a song long forgotten, but so easily recalled. Never once did she waver, drawing on an inner strength to keep her life's song playing. She looked pitiful, sitting there in the dark. A natural beauty - with impetuously curly locks of strawberry-blond, and luscious lips of raspberry wine - withered away and slouched at her piano. Her eyes were hollow sapphires, staring blankly into the night; empty mirrors to an empty soul. And still her hands moved rhythmically over the piano. Her hands; a mother's hands; a lover's hands. They'd wiped away a thousand tears, and caused a thousand more. Worn and callused; strong and independent, they moved across the piano, connecting the notes, making the music. And her eyes became bright in the dim, dim light, as salty torrents attacked her ocean blues. And she drooped her head, her long, silky curls spilling about her face. A face etched with lines of guilt and worry, far beyond her forty years. And somewhere in the night - an entire universe away it seemed - the old grandfather clock spoke out against her plight. But she did not notice, and the echo of the clock seemed only to accentuate the foreboding embrace she had laid upon the room. She let her pink, silk robe fall from her shoulders, and the creamy - peach of her skin was lost beneath a mass of her curls. And still, her hands moved across the ivory keys, belting out the injustices of life; of loss. She closed her eyes to the world, as a wave of salty raindrops began to cascade down through the dark, unfeeling night. And as the salty rain grew harder, so too did the music resonate louder, until finally she belted out the notes with such angry passion that the walls too, shook with her fury. And then, just as quickly, the music faded to a whisper. The notes so soft, it seemed impossible that one could play with such a gentle touch; and play she did. She played until the final salty tear fell, and then with a collective sigh and a tender kiss of the keys, one last note rang out and faded into the blackness of the night. And once more the room lay blanketed in darkness, save for a sliver of moonlight that played across a corner of the chamber hall. And once more the room lay buried in silence, save for the ticking of an old grandfather clock. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ pattie |
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| © Copyright 2000 Pattie Phillips - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Wow! What a scene you've woven for us, very descriptive, wonderfully written, a beautiful tale, much enjoyed  In flames I shall not be consumed, but reborn. -- Abrahm Simons |
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Altameria Junior Member
since 2000-01-23
Posts 22Whitby, Ontario, Canada |
thanks....this piece even surprises myself at times... pattie |
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Wendy Flora Member
since 2000-01-11
Posts 182Virginia |
I loved it! You are definitely a master of description! -wen |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
tick-tick-tick....I can hear it! |
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