The Pianist

• Ashton Schier-mason, Grade 8, Australian Christian College - Southlands
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition

I flexed my fingers above the piano. I heard the satisfying crack, and positioned them above the black and white keys. My eyes travelled along the surface of the piano, scanning the rectangular keys, gleaming in the dim light of the studio. I touched a few in the middle - and they made the lovliest sound. I positioned my fingers above the top keys and played a higher note. I could almost envision an angel walking on tiptoe. I looked up from the piano into blank space. The gargantuan studio, in width and heght, was curently bare. The rather dusty wooden bars stood unimportanly upon the wall. The leather mat upon the floor held no weight whatsoever, except the piano and me, of course. The cream-coloured blinds were pulled shut, but I could just make out a gleam of light from the cracks. I let its warmth wash over me, giving me the unnerving feeling of when you plunge into a bath of hot water. I smiled slghtly, and looked back to the old, battered, grand piano. I ran my hand along the smooth mahagony wood; it was oddly soft. The red wood twinkled in the lamplight reflecting from the ceiling. The semi-spherical lamps, dusty like the bars, gave off very dark lights - for perfectly working lights, that is - so that it was eerie and chilling. I shuddered briefly and looked down at my bag. It was rather plump, for a bag, and it sat quite squished and uneven on the floor. It's burgundy colour, quite a vibrant dark red, gave me a bit of colour in my day. I unzipped the bag and pulled out the notes. The bag, upon my taking from it, sat even more lopsided, and if you sat at a different angle, it looked like a lumpy puddle of red. I flattened the notes out and looked at the black ink notes spread out across the paper. I looked at the treble clefs, the minims, the semibreves, the semiquavers, the crotchets - everything was so orderly and straightforward. Not my type. I've always like free flowing music; better yet, improvising. Many pianists don't like autoschediasm, but I believe otherwise - it gives you freedom and fun. I looked at the paper dissaprovingly and threw it in the bin.