Quest For Stardom

• Isabel Praschifka, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2013

The cool breeze against my already sweaty palms sent shivers racing down my spine. As I walked up the final two steps of the staircase which lead to the entrance of the Conservatorium, I took a moment to observe my surroundings. Everything appeared slightly blurred and out of focus, apart from my dream of becomming a professional concert pianist. This was the moment I had been dreaming of for fourteen years. My mind was filled with countless emotions, all contradicting each other and sending my ability to concentrate out the window. I had to pull it together. I only had one chance to prove myself and finally turn my fantasy into reality.

There was a silence in the waiting room quieter than any deserted landscape I could imagine. The pale pink walls were lightly embellished by aged, oil paintings, similar to ones my grandmother had owned. Although they were from many years ago, they had a timeless beauty which complemented the prestige of the Conservatorium perfectly. A glass cabinet stood elegantly at the far edge of the room. Its glistening door beckoned me closer. Peering inside, I noticed that the cabinet was full of photographs. New and old, they all told a story I longed to play a part in. They were images of every musician to have performed at this Conservatorium. As it was already five thirty in the afternoon, the room was unoccupied. There was an abundance of seats all crying out for my attention. I chose the one closest to the theatre door. I sat, nervously anticipating the audition which was creeping nearer and nearer.

Five minutes had passed and the butterflies in my stomach were still swarming. I was aware that it would not be long until it was my turn to perform so I began to mentally, emotionally and physically prepare myself for the moment which awaited me. I reached into my smooth, leather, bag and drew out my iPod. I lodged the earphones into my ears and began to listen to the songs I would soon be playing myself. The soothing melody of these pieces calmed my anxiety and transformed my nerves into excitement. The importance of this occasion suddenly dawned on me and a small smile appeared on my crimson lips. Subconsciously, my fingers began moving methodically to the rhythm I was hearing.

The sound of footsteps awoke me from my trance and pulled me back to reality. The door next to me slowly swung open and a girl, seeming to be the same age as me, small in size yet bursting with a confidence I envied, exited the theatre with what I assumed to be a sigh of relief. The curator who followed her warmly welcomed me and then swiftly guided me down the center aisle of the theatre which was filled to the rim with deep red arm-chairs and gleaming crystal chandeliers hung precariously from the ornate ceiling. Similarly to when I had entered the waiting room, I took a short moment to absorb my whereabouts, before taking the final steps onto the platform. I ignored the slight shake in my stride and proceeded toward the piano. I seated myself warily in front of the piano and waited for my cue to being playing. I slid my trembling fingers along the ivory keys and positioned them in preparation for my first piece. I shut my eyes and immersed my soul into the sound I began to produce. It was really happening. This was a moment in time which changed my life forever.