Echoes

• Isaac Williams, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2012

The lights went out, and a hush swept over the auditorium. The audience waited, eyes wide and breath pent, for the same thing I did; for the curtains to open and expose me to the world.

Would I succeed? Would I fail? I took a deep breath to steady myself, but it did nothing to ease my trembling hands and treacherous thoughts – yet, I still felt an odd sense of optimism. So much of my life rested on this moment, but I could feel it. I would do just fine. I checked myself over, straightening my tie and tugging on my cuffs just like a mother would have.

The quiet hiss of the curtains drawing back was all the warning I had; the stage lights flared, illuminating me at the forefront of the stage, sitting before a large, black piano. Suddenly all eyes turned to me, and my heart beat faster.

I set my fingers against the ivory keys, remembering something my teacher had once said. “Your audience isn’t there to see you, only to hear you. The music is yours - they’ll wait as long as you need.”

I took a moment to compose myself - then, with a deep breath, I began.

The song I played was one I knew well; not only had hours of practice cemented its soft, lilting melody, it was the first song I ever wrote – a simple piece, dedicated to my mother. I remembered the first time I played it – even now, I could feel her loving eyes watching over me as I played - not for one person, but a thousand.

Each keystroke trilled like birdsong; each note meant something and resonated joyfully, dancing in the air for just a moment before melting into the wide, sweeping theme. The music was a conduit, molding the carefree memories of my childhood into an audible, beautiful form.

And then, a change. A car, screeching around a corner, bringing death with its iron frame. A body, torn and lifeless, and a broken child crying over it. My grandfather comforting me, even as he himself wept. The days that came afterward, wandering aimlessly without purpose.

And finally, the day when I once again laid eyes on that tall, grand piano.
Fair enough.

I couldn’t see the music sheets through my tears, but I didn’t need to; I knew it all by heart. I shut my eyes and played by feel, letting the song wash over me until it reached its climax, on through its bittersweet dénouement until at last I played the final note, and let it sing its lonely song.

All was silent as I wiped my eyes and stood, walking with unsure steps to the edge of the stage. I took a deep, long bow, then righted myself once more. From the darkness I heard a single clap. Then another. One more – then the entire auditorium filled with the sound of ovation.

I could only bow again, smiling.