1Haunting Melodies
The soft light from the high placed auditorium windows lent her an ethereal look, that and the fact that she dressed as though she were a concert pianist playing for a house full of guests not an almost empty hall. Today she was wearing a lovely long blue dress that left her shoulders and back bare; exposing the smooth golden colored skin to his appreciative gaze. His fingers itched to touch, to run unfettered though her black curly locks of hair that fell to shoulder height framing her heart shaped face and giving a tantalizing glimpse of her delicate neck every time she tossed her head back. Her eyes were closed in concentration and he wondered what she was thinking, her full lips curled up slightly at the edges in a secret smile, which only added to the frustrating urge to touch them with his own, an urge that was getting harder to control every time he saw her. Her elegant fingers with unadorned neatly trimmed nails flew across the piano keys, soft yet firm. Playing one ballad after the other. She never sang but she played with such emotion it left him breathless. They were never classical songs but given her expertise he had no doubt she could play Mozart if she wanted to, instead she choose to play instrumentals of well known love songs.
Sitting in this hall he had heard renditions of 'Endless love' 'When a man loves a woman' 'lady in red' 'power of love' and many others. It wasn't so much the songs she played as the way she played them that fascinated him. She played with such intensity she owned the songs; she did not sing a note yet you could almost hear the words; it was…beautiful, there was no other way to describe it. She was beautiful and he wanted more than anything to join her at the piano, stand behind her or sit beside her as she played or better yet bury his face in her soft luxuriant hair; but he instinctively guessed she would not welcome the intrusion so he just sat and watched.
Six weeks. That's how long he had been watching her. Once every week, every Thursday afternoon at exactly 2.00pm, no matter how busy he was he would drop everything else and come to watch her play. And she was always there; like a vision. The first time had been a coincidence; he had walked into the old auditorium while on a tour of the famed Kendra Musical complex the only place in town where the musicians and the musically inclined could come and sharpen their skills on a wide range of instruments.
The old buildings had a grace and grandeur that was intimidating at first sight but endearing once you got used to it. The entire complex consisted of the auditorium a tall building that sat four thousand people; on each side of it were two equally grand buildings that stood two stories high each; they held the different classes; the one on the left were lesson rooms for string instruments; the guitar, violin, and piano. The one on the right held lessons rooms for percussion and wind instruments; the drum, xylophone; flute and trumpet.
The Kendra musical community held a show twice a year, the Kendra music festival, where the most talented of the community were each given a chance to showcase their skills in front of a crowd that paid to listen to them; the revenue collected was used to run the complex. On such days the auditorium was filled to capacity and the front court crowded with people anxious to hear their favorite musicians play. On that day however the entire complex had seemed deserted; he had been to the west wing and not seen anyone yet.
He had been taking a break from his own piano lessons and feeling really proud at having finally nailed a particularly difficult section in his own rendition of Beethoven's ninth symphony. He had stepped into the auditorium just as she sat herself at the baby grand piano on the stage and flipped the lid open; curious to hear what she would play he walked down aisle and picked a chair on the second row less than two meters away and sat.
She stared at the keys as though deciding what song to play and her hesitation had given him ample time to study her more closely. The white flowing dress she had been wearing seemed to shimmer under the soft lighting; she had folded back the long sleeves freeing her forearms and delicate wrists. She had musicians' fingers; long and fine boned. His gaze had traveled upwards to her face and he was startled to meet her own analyzing gaze; embarrassed he had looked away; then he figured as he had already been caught out so he might as well finish what he had started but when he looked up she had turned back to the piano veiling those intriguing soft brown eyes, her dark hair was piled at the top of her head with little ringlets having escaped the restraints framing her face. He was trying to decide whether her hair was black or brown when she had started to play.
The melody was hauntingly familiar; it wasn't until she got to the refrain that it clicked. She was playing 'careless whispers' by George Michael! Why would she choose such a song? But my she could play! He had listened spellbound until she played the final notes. Fascinated by the way she played so effortlessly yet so powerfully. With her eyes closed and slight smile on her lips as she swayed from side to side in time with the music. Upon finishing that particular song she dove without warning into Backstreet's 'drowning in your love' ballad, after which she played Celine Dions' 'I'll be waiting for you' and three hours later he had still been seated listening as she played song after song. Didn't her fingers ache? He wondered as he watched her play a soul stirring version of 'endless love' by Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross.
It was then that he had first noticed the tears. They had slipped past her closed eyelids and cascaded down her cheeks and hung a little at her chin before dropping into her lap yet she didn't stop to wipe them she just played on. She was crying! The realization made his stomach tighten in sudden apprehension; who or what could have hurt her so bad? He was never given the chance to satisfy his curiosity for at that moment she had stopped playing opened her eyes and looked straight at him and he froze. Never in his life had he had a gaze of such intensity leveled in his direction; all coherent thoughts fled from his mind and he felt as though he were drowning in those soft brown eyes. She had looked away; broken the spell. Then just as suddenly she had stood and while brushing the tears away and walked out. By the time he had gathered his scattered wits and chased after her she was gone and he had no idea where.
A week later he had walked into the auditorium with little hope of seeing her only to find her there already and once again he had sat and listened to her play, she didn't cry this time but she didn't speak to him either, in fact she didn't seem aware he was in the hall. So for next three weeks, his Thursday afternoons were spent in the auditorium listening to her and at the end of every afternoon he would watch her walk away. But today was going to be different; today he was going to make a move. Nervously he fingered the note he was holding and wondered what she would think of it; would she read it? Tear it up and slap him in the face? He glanced at her again; she was still lost in her music, he looked at his watch it was 4.57pm; in another two minutes she would stop and walk out if he didn't stop her.
Taking a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves he stood and slowly down the isle and onto the stage. He was standing right in front of her when she stopped playing and opened her eyes.
His voice failed him when he met that mesmerizing yet questioning gaze; his heart was pounding so loud he was convinced he was having a heart attack or something close; somehow he managed to offer her the note; he watched with his heart in his mouth as she cautiously took it from his trembling hand. She opened it slowly and began to read. It had taken him hours to come up with what to write; days actually; of soul searching writing and re-writing finally he had settled for a poem; it was the only way he could think of putting his thoughts across. After much effort he had manage to put together the ten lines she was now reading
"I struggle to find the words to say;
For every time I watch you play;
I wish I was the song on your lips,
Or the piano keys beneath your finger tips.
I long to be the melody that soothes your soul;
To be the one you entrust your fears and all.
All I ask from you is a chance;
That you would deign to grant me a dance.
And I shall endeavor to make you see
That all you seek you can find with me..."
She looked up from the piece of paper and looked at him; he held his breath waiting; then the most amazing thing happened. She smiled. That already over burdened organ his he called his heart seemed to stop all together; he was completely blown away.
"You wrote this?" she asked and he nodded unable to speak, she thought for awhile then spoke again "OK. You'll have your chance…' Standing from her seat she walked and stopped right in front of him. 'Thursday next week; at two o'clock; meet me here' then she was gone. His breath came back to him in one rushed gasp.
"Yes!" he shouted punching a fist in the air and doing a little merry jig " she said yes!" and for the rest of the week he went about with the silliest grin plastered all over his face.
Thursday finally came around, a bit too slowly for his liking but it was here and he was going to see her again; that was all that mattered. He fixed his collar and fiddled with his tie for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Today he had put on in his favorite black suit. Considering the fact that she always turned up dressed in such beautiful creations he did not want to stand beside her dressed in casual jeans and shirt besides he intended to take her to Palatino's for dinner later in the evening; it was the best restaurant in town and dress code there was formal. One final look at his image in the mirror and he was convinced he was ready he walked out of his room and into the street.
He was twenty minutes early and for the first time in the six weeks since he met her he was at the auditorium before her. He walked in and sat in his customary seat to wait.
The screech of tyres rent the air ten minutes later. He shot to his feet in shock. There was a scream; more tyre squeals and then silence. He ran outside; the street was clear except for the crumbled figure that lay halfway on the curb and half way on the road.
"Oh dear God, No!" the strangled sound was torn out of him but he wasn't even aware of it; he scrambled down the steps and fell on his knees besides her unmoving body; with trembling hands he turned her over praying he was wrong; that it was someone else lying there in a pool of blood not his precious angel; but he wasn't wrong; it was her bruised face and unblinking eyes that met his horrified gaze.
"No!" he shouted and started shaking her "wake up! Angel! Come on wake up! You can't die…' he sobbed and chocked "you can't leave me…not now… please…'
Strong arms tried to drag him away but he fought them off. Voices crowded his mind but nothing registered except the fact that his angel wasn't breathing. He had to be sedated before they could take her off the curb and into the ambulance.
He walked into the auditorium and headed straight for the baby grand piano on the stage. He sat down and flipped open the lid and stared at the keys. Two weeks ago she was alive, he thought despairingly; two weeks ago she was seated here playing these very keys. On their own accord his hands settled on the keys, the melodies came unbidden first he started with ' careless whispers' the first song he had ever heard her play; he closed his eyes and the images flooded his mind it hurt but he couldn't push them away. He could see her clearly; the glow on her face when she had played the graceful arch of her neck when she tossed her hair.
The Lump in his throat grew more painful as he played, one song after the other each of them reminding him of the precious moments he spent in her company; of the mesmerizing smile his angel had bestowed on him the last time he had seen her alive. Each painful note relived the funeral; he had stood in the crowd unable to think logically; it wasn't until they lowered the casket into the unyielding ground that the finality of her death dawned on him.
Painful tears forced their way past his closed eyelids and dripped onto the piano keys; but he didn't stop to wipe them off; the melody was the only thing keeping him together now; he knew the moment he took his hands off those keys he would loose all composure and brawl like a baby. So he played on, filling the empty auditorium with the resounding haunting melodies that spoke of unbearable pain and an aching, broken heart.
The end
Authors' note: please review and let me know what you think; thanks