Harmonies And Grief #ShortStory #Anothermidnightramble The creek of the auditorium door drowned in the voices of the crowd that were both excited and indifferent. I searched for a seat to claim mine but alas there was none, so I resolved to lean against the cold wall. The manager (I presumed that was his position) came to me but nothing except with silence and a lock of the door, left. It was not long before a delicate, tiny frame emerged from the corner and made her way onto the stage. She was fragile, but in her soft eyes shone her quiet boldness. The voices reduced to a soft hush of tones until it ceased and nothing but silence filled the air. Clear nervousness instilled her before she shyly took centre stage - her slender fingers placed on the white keys of the piano. Everyone anticipated. With a breath drawn, she began. One key after the other until it progressed and turned into something ineffable. It was slow, and elegant - the harmonious, mellow tune that finds a way into your soul and sinks into your bones, and you want nothing more but to savour it. Her body, as small as it was, swayed with every note played as she spilled her tangled emotions, getting lost into her creation - into her pain that she expressed through something beautiful. Oh, yet how bittersweet it is when things end. An applause sounded from the middle, and like water it flowed to the rest and soon the room was flooded. And in response to the heartfelt appreciations, she stood awkwardly against the instrument, scanning the crowd with incredulousness and.... doubt. I watched breathlessly from the end. Her hope-filled eyes searched for someones, yet they did not meet. Fianlly, she took her bow and the next act was due. I doubt anyone would care to ask for her name, but like me they would remember the melodious tune that was a reflection of her soul. And I would remember her - and everything detailed with utmost pride. After all, how could a dead father spend his time otherwise?