"The White-Bone Keys" and "Katy"

The White-bone Keys

  The sun gently patted the thatched roof on the stone house in the middle of the green clearing. The wind purred through the trees and rubbed against the pale, grey walls. The grass giggled as it was tickled; the daisies and dandelions tossed their hairy heads in laughter and shushed them.
  Music soared through the open glass windows and danced with the wind in a ballet. A small girl sat at the piano in the colorful sitting room, her pink fingers danced over the white-bone keys in a happy jig. A large man – bristled and hoary headed – stood over her, his callused hands on her slender shoulders. His eyes glistened with happiness as they gazed at the yellow-headed child that was his.
  The girl smiled, showing pearly-white teeth, and rubbed her cheek on his hand –

  The music paused and the pedal faltered in its pumping. The ghostly little fingers trembled on the yellow-bone keys.
  The forest trees – tall and old – loomed around the house, eating the light as they leaned closer. The wind whistled loudly through the cracks of the black walls, and the twilight sky blushed a blood red. The grass, trampled with the marks of many boots, shriveled in on itself and reflected the twilight with its pale, dry stalks.
  An achy, old melody poured out of the piano now – a lonely melody that swirled around the roofless room.
  The pigeons on the black, stone walls stopped their cooing and cocked their heads. The mice paused in their scurrying under the charred floors, sitting back and twitching their noses. Even a wolf that howled at the bright crescent in the sky checked himself and turned his golden eyes to look.
  A sad little star winked at the dusty piano in the sooty sitting room. Still were the keys pressed and the pedal pumped.
  The final notes quivered in the air. They churned, writhing and moaning as they pulsed higher, disappearing into the night sky.
  The piano stool sat empty, unused, the room cold. A tiny tear dripped on the yellow-bone keys.




Katy

  Her fingers brush the white-ivory keys, and the black ones, soft and translucent in the golden light, with blood glowing and flowing through them. Unadorned – save a green thread curving around the left little finger – her hands are as pale as the keys they touch.
  Down. One key is pressed. The note lingers in the air – fading, yet reverberating softly.
  Down – two keys. One deep and the other trilling, but both harmonizing in their discordant way.
  Down! She presses both her hands down, fingers spread.
  Down, again and again. She begins to play, the melody aching in it's sweet sadness. It vibrates, breathes, and becomes alive.
  Down. Down. The melody turns, dancing, loving the air around it. It brushes the green velvet – such soft curtains – as it weaves through the polished room.
  Down. Down. Down! Twirling, its invisible beauty touches the door and pushed through to the next room. It creates its ballet on the golden walls, and across the furred, brown floor – stretching far and yet staying.
  Down! DOWN! The player plays frenzied. Punching down the keys, jerking the notes out of the instrument, calling them with wicked threats. And the melody sings, frustrated, but it comes.

  “Katy?” her mother called.
  Katy's eyes rounded to her mother standing at her side, one hand on the wheelchair.
  “Katy, darling, we're going to eat now. Let's go, honey.”
  Her vision changed as her mother wheeled her away from the bare room with fading yellow wallpaper. Only a battered piano huddled in a scruffy corner.
  “How about steak, darling?” her mother asked, “I'll just blend it up really quick.”
  Katy ignored this prater. She focused her attention on her fingers. The doctors said it was possible to move by herself after a time. Possible – but not likely. One finger obeyed. It responded by pressing into the folds of her cotton dress. Always it was her left pinkie. Her eyes welled up. Anger and frustration spilled onto her cheeks.
  “Oh, Katy, don't cry,” her mother said, alarmed, and wiped at her face with a rough paper towel. She chattered on some more, hoping to cheer Katy up.
  Katy retreated back into the world of memories.