P is for Pianissimo
By
Ginger_Snapp
Washington State was not a small school, in Bella's opinion, and she had quickly learned the back routes of the school, to avoid being trampled by the young college couples and romantic freshman. The loud roar of the chaotic hallways was just a dim murmur in her ears as she walked along the near empty hallway. Her books were heavy in her arms, and she felt a small gladness at being able to rid herself of them as the end of the day grew nearer.
She breathed a quiet sigh as she walked. This back corridor was seemingly endless, and her footsteps echoed loudly in the near silence. But, there, she had almost reached the end, save for the music room. A quiet tune carried out the open door, weaving in and out of Bella's thoughts. She could almost distinguish every note, until the song being played was discernable. The unmistakable sound of Clair De Lune played softly on the piano.
Sneaking to the edge of the door, Bella listened closely. Every soft, rhythmic note flowed together into a beautiful piece of perfect music. Each individual note pierced her heart to the core and then faded away into the flow of the music, indistinguishable, like droplets that form a stream. It slipped effortlessly through the numbness, bypassing her protective bubble, and wrapping her in the soft music. It strangled her heart, as if the staff of the piece were squeezing her to death. The notes bound her to the wall, unable to move, unable to breathe. Unable to think, which might have been a blessing in disguise. A soft sigh filled with pain and longing escaped her, barley more than a simple breath. Bella didn't move from here spot until the piece started to gradually slow, coming to an end. As the music trickled off into the last few notes, she held herself tightly and slid down the wall, curling in on herself.
Her breathing steadied as the loud sound of a bench being pushed back broke the spell. Bella shook slightly as the rustling of papers announced the sound of an approaching student. Never looking up from her notes, a blonde with large masses of tiny curls left the room, not noticing Bella at all in her distraction.
Binders and books pushed and pinched at her stomach where she had curled in on them, and her brown hair tickled her nose. It was a good distraction from the pain, but at the moment, Bella did not want a distraction. Slowly and hesitantly, she stood and turned. She was careful of her movements as she entered the room, pausing as if any wrong step could bring the pain she anticipated. Yes, this would cost her dearly later. But yet.
She took deep, steadying breaths as she cautiously moved to the back of the room. Bella barely looked away from her destination and she put down her things on a stack of violin cases. It was black. Modern, but not made to looks so. The wood was dark and worn, and you could see places the paint had been missed and only wood stain darkened the board. It was beautiful. Bella trailed her fingers over the top, walking from the back end to where the bench had been clumsily pushed back when the blonde musician had been done. Slowly and carefully, as if she would damage a priceless jewel, she opened it to expose all the keys. They were the worn, off white color of ivory, new, but not. It gave it a classic and timeless feel. Even the half notes were almost dark gray and not purely black. Lovely. For a long moment, Bella simply stood. No thoughts came. It was as if the numbness had intensified to something a bit more meaningful. She simply gazed at the keys, wrapped in her own sorrow.
Ever so slowly, she raised a thin finger, and pressed three keys, all in a single row. Sighing, she sat on the bench and scooted it forward slightly, as if she were being forced to do this, rather than it being voluntary. Evidence of the piano's modern-ness (word please?) was below the instrument, in the form of a small cart. Wires of all sort attached to the underside, but Bella clearly recognized a CD player, and a book of music. Every other electronic device on the cart was foreign to her. As if fate had told her to, she pressed the on button for the CD player, predicting what she would find. Flipping the pages of the book, she turned to what she was looking for.
She wasn't sure if fate was laughing or trying to reconcile by placing her here, but here she was. Clair de Lune played softly in the background, and there was faint light beneath each key as the note was played. She could see the red light wrap itself around the key and shine through each crack of the note she was meant to play. Instinctively, she looked at the cart again, and twisted a large dial. The notes slowed with accordance to the song, the lights lasting longer on each so that her unpracticed hands would be able to keep up. Weather fate was mocking or apologizing, she would never know, but it was with a sad ghost of a smile that Bella contemplated her morose luck.
Pushing a small button hidden on the side of the instrument, the song started over. And Bella played. It was a minor version, with shorter, more individual notes and only a few momentary chords. Slower and less flowing, but it was enough to recreate the sounds. If she could have, she would have closed her eyes to pretend that she somewhere else. For a moment, she could feel a soft rustle of clothes next to her, and she was afraid for a moment that her hands would brush with another's. The sun shone brighter into the room for a moment, as if a large window was on an opposite wall and it was much earlier in the day. Her fingers slowed even more, but amazingly, the song stayed with her. She reached a climax in the notes, and then it grew softer again, more slight. And finally, it played the last few bars, a repeat of the first in the song. She held her finger on the last note longer than it called for.
Light from the last of the setting sun philter in from the window, washing part of the room in a dull yellow orange. Particles of dust floated in the air, and the ending note resonated in the air before it was drowned out by heart wrenching sobs.