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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1591692-The-Piano-that-wouldnt-play
by HM
Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #1591692
Bear in mind that all the errors, grammatical or otherwise, are deliberate.
THE PIANO THAT WOULDN'T PLAY





- THERE IT WAS, SITTING IN THE WINDOW LIKE A QUEEN ON HER THRONE. DRENCHED IN NOIR BLACK PAINT, REFLECTING THE JEALOUS INSTRUMENTS MUNDANELY SITTING NEXT TO IT, AWARE THEY MIGHT ALWAYS BE HERE, YET THANKFUL IT WOULD BE IN HER PRESENCE, HER SHADOW. iT WAS A GRAND PIANO. IT RESTED ON 4 STUBBY BUT DAINTY LITTLE LEGS. BATHING IN HER OWN BEING, THE KNOWLEDGE OF HER LIVELIHOOD GLOWING IN THE DARK DISPLAY, APPRECIATING HERSELF LIKE A FULANI WOMAN. IT WAS SHEER POETRY. THE SUBTLE CURVES ACCENTING HER ARRAY OF AESTHETICS. THE IVORY WHITE KEYS LIKE A LADY SMILING TO HER MAN, INVITING, SEDUCTIVE. HER FLAWLESS VARNISH, A SENSUAL WHISPER.



SINCE I WAS 7, AND I LAID MY EYES UPON THAT PIANO, I REALISED WHAT MY SOLE PURPOSE OF EXISTENCE WAS. I HAD TO HAVE HER. FATHER COULDN'T AFFORD IT. MOTHER WOUDLN'T HEAR OF IT. THE ONLY PLACE IT WOULD FIT, ANYWAY, WOULD BE IN THE YARD. I KNOW I'D BURN THE HOUSE DOWN TO MAKE ROOM FOR IT. I SAVED WHATEVER ALLOWANCE I WOULD GET, PUT AWAY MY LUNCH MONEY, DO ODD JOBS AROUND TOWN. AFTER COLLEGE, I COULDN'T STICK TO A JOB, SALESMAN, PLUMBER, TV REPAIRMAN, HANDYMAN.



32 YEARS OLD, I LIVED IN A TRAILER, ATE CANNED FOOD, SHOPPED AT THE THRIFT STORE, AND I HAD 2460 DOLLARS BENEATH MATTRESS. IT AMOUNTED THE SPAN OF MY YOUTH. ONE MORE JOB AND MY DREAM WOULD COME TO TRUE. HE ASKED ME IF I WOULD HELP HIM MOVE TO THE NEW APARTMENT. I AGREED, FOR A FEE.



I DRAGGED THE COUCH 10 FEET TOWARDS THE DOOR, SAT DOWN AND STARED AT THE FLOOR. MY FINGER DREW THE SILHOUTTE OF HER IN THE DUST, ON THE FLOORBOARD. SMILING, I GOT UP AND MOVED THE REST OF IT DOWN TO THE LORRY.IT WAS THE LAST BIT OF FURNITURE. I SHOOK HIS HAND AND TOOK THE MONEY, COUNTED IT. 40 DOLLARS. 2500 DOLLARS TOTAL.



STANDING ON THE SPOT I HAD STOOD FOR THE ENTIRETY OF MY CHILDHOOD, AND ADULTHOOD, I GAZED INTO ITS HYPNOTIC NOIR. I HAD GOOSEBUMPS ON MY BODY, COLD SWEAT ON MY BROW. MY HEART BEAT FAST, REALLY FAST. THE DOOR JINGLED WHEN I OPENED IT, THE SMELL OF POLISH HIT MY NOSE. PULLING THE WAD OF CASH OUT OF MY POCKET, I HANDED IT TO THE OLD MAN, AND HE HELPED ME MOVE HER OUT OF THE DISPLAY AND INTO THE BACK OF THE LORRY.



THE TRAILER TO MY BACK, THE TREE ABOVE, THE PARK AHEAD, AND ME AT HER SIDE. I PULLED THE CRATE UP TO HER KEYS AND SAT ON IT. I HAD WASHED MYSELF, SOAPED MY HANDS AND CLIPPED MY NAILS. I PRESSED THE KEY. THEN ANOTHER. ANOTHER. THE OTHER FINGERS JOINED IN AND THEN THE OTHER HAND. I PLAYED TILL THE SUN SET. I PLAYED TILL THE ROOSTER CROWED. I PLAYED INTO THE MORNING GLARE. THEY WALKED BY, SHAKING THEIR HEADS, MURMURING AWAY. PITIFUL GLANCES. ALL I HEARD WAS APPLAUSE. ALL I SAW WAS AN AUDIENCE.
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