by Lizz Kessler

Created on: March 17, 2009

An excerpt from my novel in the making, "The Poet and The Pianst"...

"Rilana," called an old man's voice, "Rilana Lynn."

The girl he had summoned sat upstairs, in a room lit by candles. All she could see was her music. Her delicately-written, carefully thought-out music. She put her fingers to the keys, letting her emotions flow through to the great, black and white beast before her. A quiet and tranquil sound came from within its body; roaring softly, guided by her careful hands. She closed her eyes, furrowing her brows, feeling contentment rush from her soul; the expressive cries of the once silent instrument growing louder and louder as she felt more and more stir up inside her heart.

His ripened ears listened intently to the sounds above for a second or so, but he quickly became frustrated and shook his head to the crackling fire before him. He put a hand over his face, his elbow rested on the armrest of his chair.

"Would you like me to fetch her?" said his wife, clad in a gorgeous green gown.

"Please do," he replied softly.

The climax of the melody was before her. Rage, tears, and resent passed through her body, causing her lips to tremble. Moisture gathered at the corners of her warm chestnut eyes, then traveled forth to her cheeks and down to wet the upper half of her evening gown.

"Rilana?"

She jumped, striking a screeching unplanned chord.

"Y-yes?" she replied promptly, rising from the piano and turning around.

"Your father calls for you," she said monotonously, hurrying back down the stairs.

She sat on the bench again, wiping the tears from her face. With a sigh she looked up and came down the stairs, her blind father staring sightless into the flames contained within the fireplace. He sensed her presence.

"Sit," he said softly.

She took her seat on a yellowish sofa beside his chair. He extended his hand to the arm rest of the sofa, his palm open. She placed her palm in his, clasping it. She wasn't expecting this.

"Rilana Lynn," he said, his mind somewhere else.

"Father," she replied, looking into his once brown eyes. They were covered with a bluish white film.

"You sound so beautiful when you play the piano," he said dreamingly.

"Thank you" she looked down. He never encouraged her work. "Are you well, Father?"

"Yes, I am fine. I wanted to tell you that your mother and I are traveling across the country. We have relatives there" he faded, submerging himself in his thoughts again.

"That is fine," Rilana said, her curiosity pricked at his odd tone, "but you

• 1
• 2
• 3
• Next Page >>