My first posted story. I intend to write more chapters for this. Just have to figure out where exactly I'm going with it first. My first post that isn't a oneshot, so be kind : By the way, I am diagnosed with dislexia, so be kind to the grammar errors. (Special Thanks to Microsoft Spell Checker.)
Edward Cullen
My fingers ran across the ivory white keys, memorizing the feel of the cool, bone texture. I hit the C and listened to the sound that reverberated around the open hall where the grand piano sat on its raised podium.
It was perfectly tuned.
The glossy black finish reflected my face as my features took in the impressive instrument with awe and satisfaction. It was beautiful. Nothing was yet to be this perfect and faultless in my eyes. The bench sat under the soundboard, tucked away neatly and out of sight, so as to not distract from the overwhelming excellence of the grand piano.
I pulled the seat out and perched atop the cushion, reaching my feet to touch the pedals. My fingers stretched in anticipation of the music that would resound in the well-set acoustics of the hall. I was excited. It had been so long since I'd felt the overwhelming need to play. Today just seemed like a good day to participate in musical recreation.
The index finger of my left hand struck the first key and all my other fingers followed suit. They flowed over the keys in way that felt as if they weren't even touching the smooth ivory. The silver sounds ofClair De Lune rang through the halls, bouncing around and morphing the tones. My hands moved effortlessly in the familiar pattern. I let the music take meentirely. My eyes shut but the music remained perfect to the key. A million visions flashed before my eyes, some I had never seen in my conscious mind before. Dreams. I was remembering dreams that went with the music. My mind raced focusing on one reverie in particular. A perfect dream I had had many years ago, before I knew musician was my future.
Coat tails hanging off the end of the bench. White hands protruding from the night-black sleeves of a tuxedo coat. Fingers running over the keys, faster and faster as The Turkish March increases in tempo. His eyes are fixed on the soundboard letting the music flow through his arms to his hands to his fingers. The song grows faster yet and his face is a mask of concentration. The entire theater is silent and black except for the bright, pale blue light that shines down on the spot that he sits. Yet he knows people are watching him. Heknows she iswatching him. Yet who is she?
I come back to reality as the Clair De Lune closes. The final chord struck, still sounding off the walls, in a beautifully distorted sound. I wait until the final chord dissipates into the sounds of everyday life. My hands folded on my lap.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. The sound of two hands striking together comes from behind me.
I turn, still sitting on the black cushion of the piano bench. A girl sitting cross-legged in the middle of the concert floor, where all the chairs will be set up in a few hours, stares at me a half smile on her full lips.
"Debussy." She says simply, nodding her head.
My eyes narrow at her, confused. What's she doing?
"You're very good, you know. Are you playing in the concert tonight?" She is still seated on the hardwood floor, yet the "private concert" has ended.
"I wish." I tell her. I grudge the school. Though I excel at the piano they still insist that only students that are to graduate this year are allowed to play in the spring concert.
"Really? You look old enough to be a graduate." She cocks her head to the side and examines my features again.
"Nope, two more years."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I just clean the pianos before the concert. High gloss has a tendency to smudge. Part time job, you know." My reply is sarcastic and curt. This is really none of her business.
She doesn't seem to notice the impolite edge to my voice. She just continues to nod slowly and examine my facial features.
The silence becomes awkward, so I stand; ready to finish the job I came here to do. Clean. Out of my peripheral vision I notice that she stands too. She doesn't walk back out the door as I suspected she would, but instead comes to lean against the platform that the grand piano stands on.
"Won't you play another one?" her lower lip is stuck out slightly, pouting. The words "cute" and "adorable" bounce around in my mind but they don't fit her form right. Up close her appearance is much more attractive. Her eyes are a dark chocolate brown; her hair almost matches, except for the streaks of natural red that glow in the sunlight streaming into the room. Her face is heart shaped, but perfectly proportioned. She's much more than cute. She's gorgeous; a beauty to rival that of the piano.
"I don't think so," I tell her, "I don't want to get caught. I kind of like my job and it would be quite unfortunate to lose it."
She nods again, looking thoughtful. I tried to read her face but there was no apparent reason for the thoughtfulness. Reading a novel with only the titles of the chapters to guide you.
"I'm Bella, by the way." her sudden abrupt introduction caught me off guard and I jump slightly, but take the hand she extends to me. Her fingers are so cold and white. The skin is almost translucent.
"Edward." I tell her.
Another half smile. "Oh I already know that." she dropped her hand and strode away to the double doors where she disappeared behind them.
"Wha…?" is all I manage to say, but she was already gone.
Should I write more to this? I have no idea. Review? That'd be cool. Tell me if you'd like to hear more of this eccentric new Bella.
