Unravel

Silence.

Glancing into the audience, he shivers. The crowd murmurs, voices carrying across the cavernous auditorium. Forcing himself to look away from the audience, he instead admires the piano. A brilliant Steinway piano gleams under the spotlight,  its black lacquered finish contrasting its dazzling white keys. Breathing, he feels the air carry from the deepest chambers of his lungs spreading across as he exhales, letting it fully exit his body. His hands, shaking slightly in anticipation, gently caress the ivory keys of the piano. Coaxing a soft melody out of the notes, he carries the melody. 

Allegro.

Explosively accelerating, his fingers precisely dart across the piano, skillfully leading the piece to its climax. Abruptly feeling a frosty gaze tear through him, he steals a glance at the darkened left corner of the massive auditorium, and the breath clogs in his throat. His eyes, hidden behind thick rimmed glasses, go wide in shock.  Noticing his trembling gaze, the glowing phantasm of his deceased mother steps forward, her piercing gaze unwinding him as she slowly gives him a cruel smile. Veins bursting from under her papery skin, she raises her thin arm to hold up her cane, causing him to flinch. His arms throb excruciatingly in memory of the vivid purple bruises that had blossomed across his snowlike skin, a grim reminder from her cane that only perfection can be accepted. The specter stands, looming over the cavernous stage, her suffocating pressure petrifying him like Medusa’s glare. The domineering pressure unravels his world, shattering it like a thousand shards of twinkling glass leaving only a sharp darkness in its place. The dim auditorium disappears, the plush velvet chairs flit away, the awestruck audience shrouded into the shadows, the panel of judges dissipating; the blinding glare of the spotlight shrinking until it focuses on him alone. 

Crescendo.

The blazing light relentlessly scorches his back, piercing the fragile concentration he hopelessly attempts to maintain.  His shaking hands quiver, struggling to maintain a consistent rhythm while it takes on the tempo of his erratic heartbeat. Shifting restlessly, the silky midnight blue threads of his suit pull onto his shoulders, tensing from the unwelcome heat. The matching tie, pulled taut around his neck, suffocates him, constricting tightly like the clutches of an unyielding anaconda. Under the sweltering spotlight, his lips crackle, craving for moisture. Sweat gathers at his trembling brow, and a single drop travels from his pale cheek onto his quaking chin before slamming into the polished wood floor, intensely rippling and splashing outwards. The repugnant scent of salt water wafts into his nose, which immediately causes him to wince.

Vivace.

Cold, dim ocean water floods in a frosty vortex from that miniature droplet of sweat, bursting out as if from an exploding pipe, drowning the sounds of the piano. Grimacing, he feels the embrace of the frigid water, its chilling presence bombarding his fingers. The chill involuntarily numbs and convulses the tendons of his wrists, pulling them taut against the rigid bone below. The waves of the arctic water ebb across his feet, stealing away his confidence with each pull. Prickling through his stiff leather shoes, the icy sting on his toes sends him howling from a round of excruciating pain, tearing his foot off the pedal. His arms jerk violently from the unexpected sensation, quivering fingers thrashing the keys of the piano desperately, like a fish caught in a net. The piano erupts with the force of his misery, destroying the carefully curated harmony. Juxtaposing his confident and elegant demeanor from the opening of the piece, his trembling fingers clumsily stumble over the notes. He cries out, pleading for help, but his voice is engulfed in the torrents of gelid water. Crumbling in despair, his right hand apprehensively taps each key as if it threatened to fracture at the lightest touch, like glass under the pressure of heavy weights.

Diminuendo.

The inky notes of the score begin to fly off the crisp white sheet. As each note flies into the murky water before vanishing, they leave only an unrecognizable splash of crisp ink, like a raven’s feather floating along the bitter currents. The pitch black bars, barren from the departure of the notes, begin to swirl. The previously gentle curves of the measures distort, warping into mocking sneers. His head begins to spin, eyes transfixed on the ruined sheets as though they could recall the long forgotten notes. 

Ritardando.

Feeling a sense of deja vu, he recalls the familiar scene. Although he thought he changed from the timid pianist that couldn’t play a note, he comes to a bitter realization. He hadn’t grown one bit. The miniscule remainder of his self confidence seeps away like the icy water, both dispersing without a single remnant. Hanging his head, fiery tears of shame spring from the corners of his eyes, fogging across the lens of his glasses and rendering him blind. He pauses, after inhaling lightly, feebly lifting his hands from the piano as he crumbles. 

The sound of the piano ceased. 

 Silence.

Crashing backwards onto the polished wooden stage, he gasps, the sharp sensation forcing the air out of his lungs. Crying out, he pleas are quickly ceased by the crackle of his parched throat, begging for the cooling touch of water. As he tries to stand, his legs contort violently, sending him into a raspy roar of agony.  His squinting pupils meet the glaring blaze of the spotlight until his world is encompassed again by the grim darkness. Lying in the shadows, the boy ponders. What was the result of his efforts? Was he doomed to never perform? 

I want to quit. I want to quit. I want to quit. 

A single thought composed of pure hatred and frustration erupted throughout his mind. He broke. A flood of rage pierced into his mind, clouding his thinking, rational thought replaced by raw emotion. 

Fortissimo.

Shackled. Chained. Obstructed. Resembling Atlas, weighed down by the suffocating pressure of unrealistic expectations, the boy felt trapped at every turn. As he immersed himself in his helplessness, he felt a stark emptiness. Grasping onto the fragments of his composure he asked himself, “Is this reality truly freedom? Is reality suffering?” And so he let go, slipping into the realms of the unknown, seeking a release. 

Fin.