The piano loomed in front of her like a painting from a bad dream. It haunted her with its sharp features now diminished with dust. In her head she could hear sweet melodies, nothing more than a few chords a piece, ringing just like they always did as the days passed. She couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, not yet. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, swaying lightly with the dizziness inevitably caused by the many medications to which her existence had been reduced. For the first time in weeks, she extended a hand to the unsheathed keys, trailing her fingers lightly enough as to not make a sound. Instead of playing, she crumpled to the floor in an angry flood of sobs. As she moved to cover her face she cried out as her left hand covered her mouth and the absence of her right hand flushed past her face as an awful reminder that only in her wildest daydreams would she ever play piano again.
the real deal
"I do what I can wherever I end up, to keep giving my good love, and spreading it around"
Amelia Bartlett, 18; performer, creator, student, optimist. Open-minded and looking to expand.
the real deal
"I do what I can wherever I end up, to keep giving my good love, and spreading it around"
Amelia Bartlett, 18; performer, creator, student, optimist. Open-minded and looking to expand.
can't sit still
"Though I may be going down, I'm taking flame over burning out"
Everyone who has ever come into my life, taught me a lesson, then got swept up by the sands of time, I thank you. To everyone who came into my life and stayed to learn, I adore you. To the one person who decides they want to give and take forever, I'll love you.
what you may have missed
"Transistor, tape recorder, tell me about everything that I've lost. I know you've got it all stored somewhere, at least I'm keeping my fingers crossed.