I'm trying something a little different... putting myself out there and cringing as I hit post. But here goes...
I'm playing along with the ladies over at The Red Dress Club, a new space for women writers. Please go check out their space - it's quickly turning into a very incredible, supportive, place for writer's to spread their wings a little! They have a weekly meme called Red Writing Hood, where they give you a prompt and you write your heart out :)
This weeks prompt is explained here.
Here's my take...
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Midnight Pianist
Weddings were her toughest gigs.
The reminder of love and sweetness and forever stung.
She hid behind the piano, an expansive shiny barrier. Fingers flying across ivory, head hanging low, hair brushing the keys, she closed her eyes.
But she could still see her. And him. And the way they moved and clung together. His hands were getting lost in the folds of her dress, her arms folded over one another behind his back. His lips were moving softly, whispering bits of devotion and adoration.
Tiny tear drops landed on the pianists lap.
She played the notes of Moon River, slowly, eyes closed tightly. Fear and longing overwhelmed her and she shuddered.
Loneliness clung to her, wrapped around her like a blanket and hung on for dear life.
And then she felt it. The lateness, the still of the final moments of the last dance where couples stand and simply look at each other.
But they were gone, and she felt the absence of dancing bodies in a ballroom. Midnight. The lights were dim and the only thing she could see was the cleaning crew.
The teenagers dressed in uniform black pants and tuxedo shirts. They whisked dinner plates, speckled with bits of room temperature steak and bright pink salmon, off of cluttered tables in fast easy movements. Unaffected by the evening. The highs of a fairy tale affair, the sadness of a pianist playing for no one but herself.
So she left. She raised her body from the bench and gathered her car keys, lipstick, and tiny wallet from the hidden compartment under the cushion, in one grand movement. Saying good bye to no one, she left with a foreboding sense of the night. She felt eyes on the back of her neck, and heard whispering as she passed the bus boys.
Upon opening the heavy glass door a gasp escaped her lips as she felt the cool midnight air hit her face. Footsteps hushed behind her as she stalled. The night called, and she braced herself. Sadness and misery escalating. Heart pounding and mind weary, she took a step into the dark. Not knowing what the next moment would bring.