She sat at the worn grand piano surrounded by large curtained windows. The room was empty except for her and her piano. She stared blankly at the yellowing keys as she listened to the eerie quiet of the old manor house. There was a time when this was her
place of thought, the only way she could find an escape, but, things are different now. She strode to the full-length widows and flung the heavy curtains wide open exposing the light filled gardens of her family’s grand estate. She used to prefer the dark
to nurture her thoughts, before she really knew what light was like, before music.
As a little girl she loved to hear the violin’s weep their sad songs and piano’s cheerful accompaniment to the richly dressed singer. She was captivated by the way the notes fit together in a beautiful arrangement flowing up and down like they had somewhere
to go. She loved to watch the stiff lords and the elegant ladies dance; swaying to the melody at the tea-dances. How she longed to mingle in gowns of silk, but she was different. Her doctor called it a mental illness but she just felt like an outcast. Everything
was an obstacle in her mind and most of the time she gave in to the black hole, plummeting into her shaking breathless self. She was ashamed of the way her body took over sometimes and for this reason she did not often venture down the long gravel lane that
lead to the outside world. She was a lonely child who often felt she had no purpose in life but to sit and drink tea with her sisters until she was old and grey. She ached to grasp the future just above but it always seemed just out of reach. She could never
quite understand what she was meant to do in her future even though it seemed so close.
When she was around the age of twelve at the annual concert held in their garden she met an aspiring composer. He was not much older than her but played the piano with such grace that she was awestruck. She peered between shoulders when the young man was showing
her father his latest musical endeavour. The music on the page looked like a piece of art to her young eyes. She was convinced she could write too; that was what began her incessant obsession with the art of music. She would spend days memorizing the qualities
and faults of the piano in the dark sitting room when her family was out riding or in the town. It was her release and she finally felt like there was a direction, though a blurry one, to her life. There were two problems though: the unorthodoxy of a lady
being a musician during this time and the fact that her family did not know. She was trapped within her mind, rattling at the bars that kept her captive.
Her family found out the day she fell asleep on the piano, her unfinished choral piece in front of her. By now she was around the age of seventeen. Her mother and father undeniably had their opinions about the direction their little girl was taking, but they
did not voice them out of pure shock. She was scared they would forbid her from the seat she felt so comfortable in but they seemed indifferent. Her cell grew a little larger that day; she was allowed to play but no one else must know for fear of shaming the
Around a year later the young man that had sparked the musical intelligence of her brain came down the road once again. This time he asked for her. She promised herself not to think as she left down the road with a man she barely knew. He brought her to the
town concert hall that echoed with emptiness. Sitting down at the elaborately engraved piano he began to play. She felt peculiar, as if she had heard this song many a time before and he must have discerned this because he stated that this was her song. He
explained how he had come to collect some missing music from her father one day when he heard her playing and was immediately rapt with her simple yet passionate playing. She was embarrassed and a little confused but as she took the seat behind the piano she
felt ‘as one being awhile confined, seeing drop to dust about her all her bars.’ She looked out into the empty hall and dreamed it would be filled with faces fixed on her one-day. The prospect was a daunting one, but it thrilled her all the same.
Now sitting in the room that held her heart she could not recall what it felt like to be constrained within the many labels she was given. There was a knock at the door and when she turned around her husband was standing there in the glow of the evening sun.
She smiled as he took her hand and led her out to the automobile as if in a trance. After a half an hour drive she stepped out into the light and with a hundred eyes on her took her place at the front. Her husband nodded and all hands were ready when she gave
the cue to the to begin. She dwelled with the stars that night as she was swept away in the melody she knew by heart, her dream finally a reality.