The Pianist
Prologue
Prologue
On the corner of North and Main street was a small town theater. It presented movies, live bands, magic shows, all kinds of interesting routines of clowns, acrobats, jugglers, comedians, gymnastics, dancers, etc. More often than not, the red velvet seats were occupied and full of citizens of all ages, munching on their popcorn and sipping at soft drinks. Specifically a young boy of the age of 14, a dark haired lad with lovely chocolate eyes. He came every Saturday night to watch his favorite show; a Pianist. The Pianist was a pretty girl with strawberry blond hair and vibrant blue eyes, skin as smooth as milk and fingers more graceful than anything he’d ever seen. She played music that pierced the heart, beautiful and outstandingly played. The girl couldn't have been a year older than he, yet her songs were that of professional composers and so cleanly played. Her music simply couldn’t be beat.
For years, the boy spent every Saturday to watch the Pianist. He enjoyed seeing her age into a beautiful young woman as he grew into a handsome young man. Yet he realized, as the years went by the girl’s music became less bouncy, less energetic. While it was still gorgeously played, the music took on a more depressing mood, dark and malicious. The boy began to wonder why she had changed, why she wasn’t happy. How could someone so beautiful, so talented be unhappy?
Ethan
The music entering my ears made my body tingle with the emotions the notes gave off. They were dark and powerful, giving me images of murder and insanity, things that were mysterious and scary at the same time. My eyes couldn't stop staring at the girl who played this music. Her features were as innocent and soft as they get, yet her fingers danced on the keys, creating malicious rhythms. My gaze jumped back and forth from her swift fingers, to her long flowing hair, to her expressionless face, her closed eyes. Even from all the way in the back of the theater, I could tell the music pierced her as much as it pierced me, and everyone else in the theater. Some were even crying.
The Pianist finished her song with loud, low notes, her shoulders slumping forward a little to signal that the composition was over. Everyone jumped out of their seats, including myself and clapped, some wolf whistled, some threw roses onto the stage. The Pianist bowed once, swooping up the flowers with a smile and dashed behind the drawn curtains. Everyone else sat back down, but I moved my way to the exit. I only ever came for the Pianist.
Outside was chilly and sprinkling. The moon was shining bright and full, surrounded by a blanket of sparkling stars. The street lights were on, but dull, their purpose not really succeeding. I pulled my jacket closer to my body, shoving my hands into the pockets, and started to make my way down the street. There was a soft breeze, tiny droplets of rain hitting my face and dampening my hair. Not that I really minded, I loved the rain, especially in thunder storms.
It was relatively quiet and I was about two blocks from my home when I heard pounding feet and a soft scream, high pitched and sweet like a girl’s. I paused, listening for another one. A few moments later there was and closer. My eyes darted around me, searching for the source. I took a few more steps and peered in the alley to my left. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
A man; big, fat and burly had his ginormous hand around a thin girl’s throat. He slammed her back against the brick wall of the alley and she whimpered.
“You little bitch. You went again tonight didn’t you? Didn’t you?” He growled into her face.
The girl closed her eyes tight, nails clawing at the man’s hands viciously. When the man raised his hand to strike her I snapped out of my shocked trance and ran forward. Without thinking, I kicked the side of his knee, hard. The man cried out and stumbled, losing his grip on the girl, who sprinted away. I was then pushed back into the brick wall by the burly man, his fist slamming brutally into my gut. I gasped, clutching my stomach, trying to suck air into my lungs. Pain laced throughout my abdomen, my legs went weak. The man was about to punch me again when a metal pole hit him in the back. Out cold, he collapsed to the wet asphalt, sprawled out like a fat eagle. I looked up to see the girl. Her eyes were wide and wild, her entire body was shaking. A sudden stroke of realization zapped through me. It was the Pianist.
On the corner of North and Main street was a small town theater. It presented movies, live bands, magic shows, all kinds of interesting routines of clowns, acrobats, jugglers, comedians, gymnastics, dancers, etc. More often than not, the red velvet seats were occupied and full of citizens of all ages, munching on their popcorn and sipping at soft drinks. Specifically a young boy of the age of 14, a dark haired lad with lovely chocolate eyes. He came every Saturday night to watch his favorite show; a Pianist. The Pianist was a pretty girl with strawberry blond hair and vibrant blue eyes, skin as smooth as milk and fingers more graceful than anything he’d ever seen. She played music that pierced the heart, beautiful and outstandingly played. The girl couldn't have been a year older than he, yet her songs were that of professional composers and so cleanly played. Her music simply couldn’t be beat.
For years, the boy spent every Saturday to watch the Pianist. He enjoyed seeing her age into a beautiful young woman as he grew into a handsome young man. Yet he realized, as the years went by the girl’s music became less bouncy, less energetic. While it was still gorgeously played, the music took on a more depressing mood, dark and malicious. The boy began to wonder why she had changed, why she wasn’t happy. How could someone so beautiful, so talented be unhappy?
Ethan
The music entering my ears made my body tingle with the emotions the notes gave off. They were dark and powerful, giving me images of murder and insanity, things that were mysterious and scary at the same time. My eyes couldn't stop staring at the girl who played this music. Her features were as innocent and soft as they get, yet her fingers danced on the keys, creating malicious rhythms. My gaze jumped back and forth from her swift fingers, to her long flowing hair, to her expressionless face, her closed eyes. Even from all the way in the back of the theater, I could tell the music pierced her as much as it pierced me, and everyone else in the theater. Some were even crying.
The Pianist finished her song with loud, low notes, her shoulders slumping forward a little to signal that the composition was over. Everyone jumped out of their seats, including myself and clapped, some wolf whistled, some threw roses onto the stage. The Pianist bowed once, swooping up the flowers with a smile and dashed behind the drawn curtains. Everyone else sat back down, but I moved my way to the exit. I only ever came for the Pianist.
Outside was chilly and sprinkling. The moon was shining bright and full, surrounded by a blanket of sparkling stars. The street lights were on, but dull, their purpose not really succeeding. I pulled my jacket closer to my body, shoving my hands into the pockets, and started to make my way down the street. There was a soft breeze, tiny droplets of rain hitting my face and dampening my hair. Not that I really minded, I loved the rain, especially in thunder storms.
It was relatively quiet and I was about two blocks from my home when I heard pounding feet and a soft scream, high pitched and sweet like a girl’s. I paused, listening for another one. A few moments later there was and closer. My eyes darted around me, searching for the source. I took a few more steps and peered in the alley to my left. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
A man; big, fat and burly had his ginormous hand around a thin girl’s throat. He slammed her back against the brick wall of the alley and she whimpered.
“You little bitch. You went again tonight didn’t you? Didn’t you?” He growled into her face.
The girl closed her eyes tight, nails clawing at the man’s hands viciously. When the man raised his hand to strike her I snapped out of my shocked trance and ran forward. Without thinking, I kicked the side of his knee, hard. The man cried out and stumbled, losing his grip on the girl, who sprinted away. I was then pushed back into the brick wall by the burly man, his fist slamming brutally into my gut. I gasped, clutching my stomach, trying to suck air into my lungs. Pain laced throughout my abdomen, my legs went weak. The man was about to punch me again when a metal pole hit him in the back. Out cold, he collapsed to the wet asphalt, sprawled out like a fat eagle. I looked up to see the girl. Her eyes were wide and wild, her entire body was shaking. A sudden stroke of realization zapped through me. It was the Pianist.