Waiting For Applause

These are the last moments of James Goodley's life. A man of such kind nature that people couldn't help but like him; he was a good man. He married a beautiful school teacher whom had sadly passed away during the birth of their first child, but consequently he was left with an equally beautiful daughter, whom became his world. Three days before her sixteenth birthday, she too was taken from him, and his world came to an abrupt end.

James Goodley was left a hollow man. He seemed to stop existing; never went back to work, never left his house, never spoke to his neighbours. Even when the final warnings sounded and the last transports left with the remaining stragglers, James Goodley did nothing.

He had been following the flow of speculative information as it poured from his television set; half listening, half not. He mused slightly over how futile human instinct was; the end of the world was not something you could just run away from. There was not a plane high enough or a bunker deep enough to ensure survival, yet still people ran. Not however James Goodley. He did not run.

At a quarter past four he switched off his television and put his coat and hat on. For the first time in months he looked himself in the mirror by the front door and straightened his tie. He then turned the key that already sat within the door and pausing momentarily to inhale the crisp chilled air, he stepped out of his house. The street was deserted. There were no sounds at all. No traffic, no children playing, no neighbours arguing.

James Goodley made his way on foot across the various streets and roads that led him to the Royal Concert Hall; a route he had taken many times. That was of course before the accident. He seemed to jog leisurely as if verging upon lateness but always remained cautious of the traffic. At one point he even waited upon a crossing light to flash him across a road safely. He looked up and down the street; of course there were no cars.
Upon reaching the hall James Goodley sprinted up the stairs of the main entrance, taking them two at a time. He strode down the corridors and entered the main hall. He removed a seven month old concert ticket from his coat pocket and negotiated his way to the seat designated upon it. Sitting quietly he closed his eyes.

Softly and slowly at first the delicate tone of a piano broke the silence. Opening his eyes James Goodley could see a beautiful, black grand piano upon the stage. Each note that it produced filled the hall. In reality the piano stood there dusty and alone, but through James Goodley's eyes it shone brightly and sparkled from the lights; as did his daughter. She sat upon the stage in all her beauty and the piano sang beneath her fingertips. Music flowed and for the first time in over half a year a smile spread across his face and the frown dissipated from his brow.

The image before him tingled his senses and even when the concert hall began to shudder, he felt nothing but contentment. The shining light was only the glimmer of sequins under the spotlights, and the warming glow; just the pride that burned within him. James Goodley's gaze drifted throughout the hall and he was in awe of it all. An appreciative ear in every seat, and every box from the stalls to 'the gods'. The ornate structure and decor alive in exquisite detail all around him echoed the quality of what was being produced upon the stage. Even as the doors burst open and howling winds invaded the room blowing smoke and debris, the only sound to James Goodley's ears was that of his daughter playing. The satin drapes billowed in the searing toxic breeze and particles of dust all sparkled in the scattered light, everything in unity with the music. The violence of Mother Nature, tamed by the delicate hands of a girl.

Each note grew louder as the lights burned brighter, and piece by piece small areas of the hall became obscured by the intensity of the light. Until at last everything had gone, and all that remained was the rapturous cacophony of applause.

James Goodley's senses tingled and buzzed. Through the blinding brightness he felt a familiar hand upon his own. It squeezed him tightly and beginning to shake, he squeezed it back. Barely able to breath he waited for the voice he had longed for.

'I've missed you Daddy.'