A tragic romance seen through the eyes of a piano. |
Because She Can Remember The melodies of the day run through her memory. They echo in her mind. She is never lonely, because she can remember. She hums silently to herself, recalling favourite moments. The way he stroked her with strong yet delicate fingers. The hours they spent together, singing joyously, lamenting mournfully. Her voice is perfect, from deep sonorous tones to the feather-light whispers. She sounds youthful, much the same as when she sang for the first time. Experience has strengthened her abilities. In the beginning, the dynamics of her voice were limited. Now she is an expert from the faintest murmurs through to powerful climaxes. She prides herself in her abilities. She has been with him for sixteen happy years. She has grown accustomed to his touch, moulding and adapting herself for him. When they are together, they are one. But the two halves of the whole split. She is sitting there in her usual place, reminiscing about the last time they were together. It had been so sensual. His hands moved along her so slowly, so sadly. She never wanted it to end. But as with all things, it had to. She has been sitting there for a day, still remembering her last encounter. She is so deep in thought, so wrapped in fantasy, that she doesn’t see the three men gather around. She snaps out of her daydream and finds herself being groped on all sides by strong, not so delicate hands. Her view of the room has changed. It is a shock to her. Spending sixteen years in the same place, and then being manhandled through the house without warning has struck her silent. She is outside, feeling the bright sunlight work its way through her, and she knows it will damage her voice. Before she is hoisted into the mouth of the awaiting van, she catches a glimpse of another. Three more men are carrying another. Long, sleek, black legs. Dazzling white teeth beneath glossy black lips. She realises now what has happened, and an anger she has never known before arises inside her. The door is slammed. She squats in the darkness, seething with fury. How dare he? After all they had been through together ... how could he leave her for ... It was beyond thinking. It was sacrilege. Sixteen years! And this is how she is repaid! Light shines in through the door again. Outside is a graveyard. Death piled high, left to rot. The three men harass her again. She feels no sympathy from their rough hands. With a strength that surprises her out from her fury, she is flung out of the van and onto the pile. She feels herself break inside. Her once magnificent, mahogany body is splintered, broken, deserted. She weeps silently to herself, recalling lost moments. She is lonely, because she can remember. |