Post by SHSL dead pianist on Jan 22, 2015 16:53:43 GMT -5
When: post 2nd trial
Where: storage room
Who: Fermata and whoever else wants to join
It seemed to be normal in the storage room. Midday, darkish lighting, and a little dust here and there. The odd part was that it was quiet. Every day at midday, there were the sounds of a piano in the room. You simply stood at the stairwell leading to the fourth floor and you could hear it. The sound never failed to appear, never. A different piece every day, but always there.
Except today.
Fermata stared at the keys, lost in thought. She couldn't seem to conjure a small tune, or a large piece to play from her mind. She couldn't think straight. The keys seemed to almost mock her. She knew she wouldn't survive. She was far too weak and far too trusting of others. Far too confused. Far too ignorant. The keys, usually her escape, stared back at her, daring her to play. Daring her to pretend it was alright. Daring her to say she could still play the way she did before. But she couldn't. She felt almost frozen, unable to lift her hands to play.
The first sob came, silenced as quickly as it appeared. A small drop of water fell on a key, and another small sob escaped. It continued that way, her trying to stop, her body not obeying it's commands. Until finally she was hugging herself, trying to stop the shaky sobs that wouldn't disappear, staring blankly at the keys.
How long until they were stained pink?
Where: storage room
Who: Fermata and whoever else wants to join
It seemed to be normal in the storage room. Midday, darkish lighting, and a little dust here and there. The odd part was that it was quiet. Every day at midday, there were the sounds of a piano in the room. You simply stood at the stairwell leading to the fourth floor and you could hear it. The sound never failed to appear, never. A different piece every day, but always there.
Except today.
Fermata stared at the keys, lost in thought. She couldn't seem to conjure a small tune, or a large piece to play from her mind. She couldn't think straight. The keys seemed to almost mock her. She knew she wouldn't survive. She was far too weak and far too trusting of others. Far too confused. Far too ignorant. The keys, usually her escape, stared back at her, daring her to play. Daring her to pretend it was alright. Daring her to say she could still play the way she did before. But she couldn't. She felt almost frozen, unable to lift her hands to play.
The first sob came, silenced as quickly as it appeared. A small drop of water fell on a key, and another small sob escaped. It continued that way, her trying to stop, her body not obeying it's commands. Until finally she was hugging herself, trying to stop the shaky sobs that wouldn't disappear, staring blankly at the keys.
How long until they were stained pink?
