Here's my first attempt at flash-fiction: a love affair between two people and a piano. Enjoy!
You might want to play the music while you read it. Video below the story.
GIVE ME MOONLIGHT — by Katrina Ariel
THE CASTLE IS COLD, but inside I burn. I am lurking in the hall, drawn by the music, seduced by your song.
The piano stops. Your feet make the floorboards a bass drum. The door opens with a whisper of wind, and your eyes are on me, dark and lustful.
Did you hear my footsteps? Did my longing knock when my fist did not?
Smooth and low, your words tempt me into your lair, where opulence drapes the walls and spreads herself on your floors. The instrument has center stage, cushioned by a jewel-colored carpet fortunate enough to find itself beneath the object of your obsession.
You ask what I want you to play, but you already know. Beethoven, of course. Moonlight. Give me Moonlight, again and again.
Your fingers touch the keys. I know you watch me, but if I fall into your eyes I will miss the song.
I lean into the mouth of the piano, offering myself to the music. It claims my blood, takes my heart as its own, residing in my ribcage. Vibrating in my bones. The resonance builds until, too soon, the song changes.
The darkness shifts into a dance of shadow and light. Now you are playing with me, and I brave your gaze.
Your lips twist up. You know what you do to me. Your fingers keep moving, faster now, with urgency and need.
I press against the polished wood. My feet take me closer to you, until I can see your hands flying across the keys. Such precision. Such mastery.
My chest feels as if it will burst, breath deep and desperate. The song comes like waves, now softer, now building to a crest. When the last wave breaks, and your hands rest on the keys, the only sound is our breathing.
Does it do the same to you, this intimate concert you give? Does it consume you as it does me?
I want to lift my hand and brush your wild hair away from your face, but I do not touch you. You keep your long fingers on the keys.
Our eyes betray us.
I step back, retreat before I give in and surrender to you completely. The door handle is cold under my hand.
You speak my name. Good God, you make it a song.
I stop, look back, and curtsy deep. A whisper of thanks is all I can manage. I slip into the hall and rush through the castle. I tumble outside, running through the gardens, seeking the solace of night.
You know I will come again. You will play for me, and maybe, one day, I will be yours.
…END…
Here’s the song, in case you don’t have it already playing in your head: Beethoven — Moonlight Sonata
I’m new on Steemit, and love meeting new friends! You can check out my INTRO POST if you want to know more about me.
If you’re a writer or musician, please say hello! Thank you for reading!
PEACE! @katrina-ariel
