Your playing her lullaby… The one you’ve composed out of intense affection, hoping it would win her over. Maybe it was the piece you wrote, or maybe she had always been in love with you. That is for her, only her to know. But now, you play the sweet song with a tint of bitterness, looming over each note as a shadow would haunt its keeper all through the day. Slowly, the volume raises. It becomes louder, and faster. Your fingers move feverishly across the piano, getting faster and faster. Now they look demented, cracking at each move. Up and down the piano as spiders would crawl up your neck. Your fingers hurt now; they hit the keys too hard, bruising the tips. Everything blurs but your fingers continue to strike the piano. Faster, faster. Louder, louder! Till boom! Shards of glass fly across the scene. A dark light comes from the piano. It blows up into a million little pieces... They cut into your fingers, through your hands. Blood pours out. Drips and drips. You focus on one little droplet. So dark and crimson, round and perfect. It falls into thin air and drops in an eye. Who’s eye? They’re strikingly large, fixed staring into your own. But they resemble yours, yet darker, stained with a sinister murk. You fall into the dark pit of its pupil, falling and falling and falling. Till thankfully, you awake.
May 23, 2011