www.whyville.net Apr 22, 2012 Weekly Issue

Times Writer

Not Forgotten

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She sat upon the glossy black bench, brushing her petite, slender fingers across the snow white and ebony keys. Her fingers were as fragile a monarch's wings as they gently pressed on the keys.

The melody was full of robin-like chirpiness. It was the song of a red rose, sprouting out of the cold bitterness that winter brought. She smiled brightly, shining her light across the audience. There was no question about her happiness.

Suddenly, her melody turned into a rough harmonic minor, causing the audience's faces to arrange into a deep frown. Her fingers transformed into furious boulders, stomping on the keys. Her face became an open book, with her tears streaming down the valleys of her face.

Slowly, the sound of the keys disappeared, even though her pressing of the keys stayed the same.

The audience moved to the end of their seats, clinging for dear life. Their dominate ear faced her as they struggled to hear her cry spoken from the keys. Some lost interest quickly, not wanted to make the effort and rose from their seats. Grabbing their belongings, they murmured words of discouragement. Others were stubborn and tried to quiet the others so they could get everything out of her performance. As her plea became more difficult to comprehend they, like the others before them, left.

She played her final chord; an ending that was unpleasant. She looked out into the audience through blurry eyes. Her blue eyes darted back and forth, searching for a soul that cared enough for her to stay. She sighed, which made her tears run down faster and dangerously.

She started to walk away, surrendering her fight. She brushed her fingers through her curly hair, feeling the softness. She would miss feeling her locks falling in between her fingers, a small source of comfort to her troubled soul. As she grew closer to the end of the stage, opposite of where she entered in, her emotions started to over come her. She couldn't think of anything else, but getting out of here. Her fingers brushed a thin veil and she started to lift it over her head. 'This is it,' she thought,' everything will be over now. All my feelings piling inside of me will just disappear.'

Suddenly, strong familiar arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her violently back. Once she hit the body, she realized what just happened. She was furious. How dare they! She turned around, aggressively, so she could give a piece of her mind to this robber; robbing her of what she longed for-an end.

Her eyes met familiar ones and she could only breathe out, "Oh my."

His emerald eyes were full of the pain she was feeling. His strong arms pulled her close so he could comfort her. She rested her head on his chest as her tears soaked his shirt. He pushed her back slightly, so he could look into her eyes and cradle her head with his hands. He wiped away a tear from her eyes, softly, with his thumb.

"I have not forgotten you. I have not failed you. I am still here for you. I care for you," he breathed out and then pulled her back into his arms.


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