The Mind of a Grand Piano

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Dahnya and Dash are as thick as thieves. Every day, after their morning lessons, Dash would play a song for her on the piano. Oh how she wished she told him her feelings before it was too late. (one shot)

Submitted: February 03, 2012

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Submitted: February 03, 2012

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Dahnya sat down next to Dash as he placed his fingers gracefully over the ivory keys, as if he was coaxing the piano to calm itself before he began to play. Dahnya was barely an inch from him. One light scoot to the left and they would be touching. But she didn’t dare.

“This one is for the greatest friend in the world,” Dash said, looking Dahnya in the eyes, just like he did every time he played for her.

He was so charming and sweet it made her heart flutter. Almost as if Dash was transformed into a gentleman for a moment, the keys began to press down. Little invisible hammers pounded on little invisible strings deep inside the mind of a grand piano. And suddenly, there was music. Peacherine Rag filled the empty, lonely air of Dahnya’s father’s white marble ballroom. It was as if the room was instantly filled with dozens of ladies and gentlemen in fancy attire with lovely laughs, as it sometimes did when her parents threw a party. Dahnya closed her eyes and imagined that she was finally allowed to attend on of those parties. But children were meant to be seen and not heard, so she never could. She would wear a long, red evening gown that complemented her golden tresses. She imagined that she was dancing with Dash. He was making her laugh as they twirled around the room. Then, he stopped her dancing and slowly bent his head down so he could kiss her.

Dahnya’s face was ornamented with a goofy smile when she opened her eyes. Normally, when she awakes from a daydream, the atmosphere seems gloomy and sad by comparison. But now, the air was just as lovely around her as it had been during her dance. The music was still enchanting her. Maybe it wasn’t the music that was capturing her; maybe it was the fact that Dash was playing it. She knew she was too young to be in love, but she didn’t have to tell anyone.

Soon, the music drifted to a stop and Dash smiled at her. She smiled back.

“I love you, Dash,” she wished she could say.

“I love you too, Dahnya,” she wished he would say back.

One year later.

Dahnya climbed on top of her grand piano and lay there, looking up at the crystal chandelier. Dash had been gone for a few months now, but she still felt excruciatingly depressed. She closed her eyes and willed the piano to come to life. Little invisible hammers hit little invisible strings deep inside the mind of a grand piano and there was music. Peacherine Rag filled the empty, lonely air of her mind. She imagined she was sitting next to Dash again. She imagined he was playing for her once more. Just once more. That’s all she ever wanted. If only he could come back just for a day and play one last verse of Dahnya’s favorite Scott Joplin song. But, unfortunately, in the late 1920’s, bringing the dead back to life was not yet a possibility.

The song continued and she wished and wished that he would come running through the French doors of her father’s ballroom saying that there was a big mistake. That he wasn’t hit by that blasted train. That that was someone else and he was really fine. He had just been hiding. Playing a joke on everyone.

A single tear fell from her left eye, making a light tap on the piano that interrupted the music for a split second. Then there were more, and more, and more. And before she knew it, Dahnya was crying. The music fell to a silence. Returning her despaired state of mind.

“I love you, Dash,” she said.

“I love you too, Dahnya,” she wished he could say.


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