The Melody Echos

He sat, alone in the room cursed with the absence of light. Alone only with his thoughts and a grand piano which belonged to the one he once loved. His hand rose slowly to the ivory keys and with shaking fingers he lay his hand down. The piano whispered its soft tune. His hand lifted off the keys immediately as a tear ran down his pale cheek. It pains him to continue, though it would hurt more to stop. His fingers creep closer to the keys once more and they navigate the piano until they rest upon the next note. Two more tears caress his face as he continues to the next note.

It seemed to be the perfect day, a day with his wife and daughter at the carnival. If there ever was such a thing as unfathomable love for one’s wife and child he would have possessed it. Hands and fingers interlocked between lovers and eyes set on a child, a child forged from the profound love of man and women. Her laughter happily fills their hearts as she goes round and round the merry-go-round.

Finally, he reaches the chorus which triggers the worst of his memories. Too sudden to prepare, the hurricane attacked the carnival. Each note played brings with it a roar of thunder. Umbrellas take flight, carts fall to the floor. Mothers hugging their children with no intention of letting go, except for one mother and child for the instant chaos formed a formidable wall between them. Child, screaming from the merry-go-round, mother, yelling helplessly from a distance. The mother dashed through the mayhem and grasped her child. They stood together on the merry-go-round and looked back at him, unbeknownst to either of them that it shall be the last look they exchange.

He paused, unable to finish the song. It was torture to carry on with the song for it was the first and last song that his wife played. It was her favourite as well as his. So there he sat, alone, truly alone. He attempted to sound the final note even though he knew of the agony it would bring.

BANG!

16 thoughts on “The Melody Echos

  1. Hi Bailey.
    Just remember there is always a way forward. Not always easy . We are more than the sum of the people around us. We just need to reach out

    Liked by 1 person

    1. These are really just expressions of my feelings that I put into words. This one specifically was actually inspired by a song that I heard, none of it is anything to be taken too seriously.

      Like

  2. Hi Bailey.
    Such deep dark stories. As much as I enjoy reading your work I would like to see the lighter side of you. I know there is one. Good job. Keep it up

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The lighter, happier side of me doesn’t write as expressive stories😂
      So it’s not that I’m depressed, I just take advantage of my feelings to create – hopefully – good stories.

      Like

  3. I’m the devil’s advocate. I like the story, but get the crap out of the way. The first line. So?
    “he sat, alone in a room cursed with the absence of light.” Period. We get “the” room when we know what room. Until then “the” is meaningless. Development, development, development. Every chance you get to eliminate an -ing, do it, if you have to rewrite the sentence 10 times. Do that with “shaking”. Paint a strong picture. Make the last line kick. Don’t write what you think it should say, write it like it is.
    Good work. Go buy Richard Lanham’s “Revising Prose.”
    Hey, my blog post you liked was an edited toss-off. Get serious, not “writerly.” Here’s the deal-anyone can write in the middle of the road and sound almost like a writer. Don’t be them.Carry on.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Hi Bailey
    I am blown away. That short story is amazing. I never knew it was you when I was reading and the to my surprise at the end I saw it was you. All I could say was WOW. Keep it up.

    Liked by 1 person

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