Waiting in Silence.

Curtain raises.

I look ahead. Thousands of eyes look towards me. Boring, waiting.

I look ahead. Look for the only person who could calm me down.

This moment. The moment. My moment of glory.

Boy is seated on the third row, three seats from the aisle. I look at him and effectively relax. He looks at me, and winks. It fills me in with just the amount of enthusiasm I need to go on.

The eyes look on, the tongues roll, and the hands balled in fists thump the air. I look at Boy and he smiles.

It’s time.

My fingers hit the ivory keys of my beloved baby grand. They move automatically, and the crowd listens intently. Not a sound erupts from the thousands seated under the starlit sky- just a light shining bright from their eyes, as they look on, happily. Excitement cuts the air, as my fingers play the music I have brought to the face of earth, and I listen with motherly pride. I clear my throat to myself, a private act in public, before adjusting my microphone. My eyes are closed in a silent prayer to my soul begging it to be melancholic, as I sing.

Time’s mine.

I sing of broken relationships, and death- universal phenomenons I haven’t had the misfortune to experience in the fifteen years of life. I want to laugh at how people love listening to others’ pain- that tragedy is more popular than comedy. I want to laugh, but my soul has heard my plea, and is melancholic. My eyes reflect this, and allow a single tear down my cheek, as the crowd swoons- the first sound since I began. I stop for a second, as I curl my fingers and let them relax, before I start another song, this time happier- about the fantasy of a paradise.

All Praises.

My fingers leave my beloved, and I sing a bridge. I end with a quick chorus. And wait.

I look ahead. Eyes wide open. Anticipation shivering my spine.

I look ahead. Thousands of eyes look towards me.

There is silence. It cuts the air, and I bleed shame. I look over to the crowd. They have We love you, Silver Girl! placards held over their heads. But their mouths are shut, and nothings cuts this sound of silence.

I look ahead. Look for the only person who could calm me down.

But, there is silence. Silence that creeps into my skin like poison. Silence that yells. I look ahead at Boy. He is solemn. He is exhausted. He looks at me and visibly sighs. He’s like a bridge over my troubled water.

This moment. The moment. My moment of glory.

There is no sound. And the silence grows like cancer. It’s been five seconds since I started counting. Neon lights swaying the darkness, sweeping the silent crowd. Seven seconds. Then there is a slow solitary clap from somewhere at the back echoing the sound of silence. Suddenly, claps fill the air like thunder, breaking this ten second sound of silence.

I look at Boy, and we share a smile. I look at the crowd as happiness hits me and satisfaction comforts me.

Written for The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge.

THE CHALLENGE

There are multiple ways of interacting with silence: purposefully leaving something unsaid, breaking the silence around a topic, or, quite simply, getting tongue-tied. For this week’s challenge, we want you to take the theme of silence and explore it in your own way.

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About TheBlackWallflower

I'm just your average unique person. I love to read and write (no surprises there, eh?) and think a lot. I adore Rowling and think Harry Potter should be a religion. I also hate pink. I love fluff generally because it makes me feel intelligent and I love poetry because it makes me feel different. (yes, references.) I'm married to Sirius Black. So I sign myself as The Bitch alarmingly often. Oh, and I love Mr. Darcy. And Jo Longo. And Chandler Bing. And Sherlock. (Yes, I'm a fantard.) And in case you want to drop in a good, or a critical word, feel free to email me: theblackwallflower@gmail.com OR, follow me on Twitter: @WallflowerBlack Enough with the babble. OkBye. View all posts by TheBlackWallflower

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