Piano | Teen Ink

Piano

January 7, 2013
By Sophia Reagan BRONZE, Coral Springs, Florida
Sophia Reagan BRONZE, Coral Springs, Florida
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The room is dark. I glance out the sliding glass door and stare at the urban glow that rises into the black sky, distant lights on cars streak against the dark canvas of night like shooting stars. Outside I can imagine the loud chaos and hustle of society, always rushing to get to some destination. However, in my livingroom everything is tranquil and the thick barrier of the walls seperates me from the pandemonium. I sit down on the bench and stare at the keys before me, illuminated by a single light resting on the lid. Eighty-eight slim sticks, some black, others pure white, at my disposal to create absolutely anything . The fingers of my right hand glide over the cold ivory, stopping at the seven keys surrounding middle C whose centers lack the polished gloss, worn away by the endless hours of practicing. The silence in my empty house has never been so loud, filling the dark corners and vacant rooms. Holding my breath,I let my index finger press a single E, splitting the silence and filling my ears with a familiar ring, reflecting off the tile floor and ricocheting in every which direction. I let my left hand join the solitary E with a slow scale that evolves into arpeggios and chords, the stiff gears in my mind now being lubricated with the flow of improvisation. Quarter notes and eigth rests start to connect, traveling down my arms and out through my finger tips. The notes that suddenly invade the silence are my emotions. They speak the thoughts trapped in my body, the feelings that I simply cannot voice outloud. I quickly stacatto into the upper octaves, peeking over into the body of the instument to see the swift hammers strike the thin strings that vibrate in what seems to be sonic motion. The inanimate, black, glossy, seven foot Yamaha grand piano has come alive with my delicate touch, morphing into an extention of myself. I glance back down at the black and white keys, lined with a thin piece of red felt on top, and pull my hands away from the instrument. Holding the sustain pedal with my foot, the last notes beginning to blend in the air filling every corner of the house with a blur of music. Eyes closed, I lose myself in the muddy tones that wrap around me. The calm, black notes squeeze through the air vents and out the windows, floating towards the endless sky, lost in the vacuum of space. Again, I am engulfed in silence.



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