The Dragon's Library of Mystical Tomes

A Silent Call to Listen

    It had begun. The first note hit everyone's ears with such a graceful cry for silence that the whole room fell quiet. It was a loud quiet, full of anticipation for every next note to be played and then full of satisfaction as it hit the audience’s ears. They all had fallen into an almost trance like attentive state where the only thing allowed on their mind was simply the music. All of the audience had fallen underneath this spell but one. The listener sat there, almost breathlessly in admiration as the music entrapped them in wonder, it felt like the music was just for them out of all the rest. They started to stir within their seat, looking around them, watching the others’ faces and noticing that all the rest didn’t have the same feeling of understanding as they did. This song was for them and them alone. 
    The listener made their way through the audience, not a single person seeing them or realizing that they were there. They moved with the music, the song caring each of their steps making them lighter as they went along. Closer and closer they got and thus more and more things disappeared around them. First the slight echo of the music bouncing off the walls of the large auditorium. Then, when they turned around, they could no longer see the last row of which they had previously been seated. Each and every step, another row disappeared but the feeling of anticipation still lingered within the air, it had become almost suffocating. 
    They made it to the edge of the stage, the song now playing softly as if it was aware at how close the listener had gotten, it was begging them to come closer still. They climbed the few steps leading up onto the stage and looked out to the rest of the audience, squinting to see but finding themself alone, only the pianist was there. The room had closed in on them, which the listener found comforting. Much like before, the audience's lingering presence still weighed heavily in the air, directed solely to the pianist, the listener still invisible to their eyes. They edged closer to the pianist, noticing how they were barely moving anything but their hands. Everything was stiff like, looking as if they were being controlled by another out of sight. The light shining on the stage was bright, but somehow the details of the pianist's face still remained imperceptible. A sudden unease fell over the visitor upon the stage which increased with each step they took closer but at the same time, it felt as if it was being pulled away with the sound of the music.
    They reached the piano, now standing completely opposite of the other. The pianist opened their mouth to speak but no sound came out. Their mouth moved gently over each word they were meant to say but nothing was directed to the listener. They moved closer to try and hear the words the pianist meant to speak, not knowing those words weren't meant for them to hear. 
    Now standing next to the pianist, being greeted by the same soundless words, they sat down on the bench next to the other. They sat and listened to the song, letting their mind travel to the different place that the song wanted them to go. What brought them back from their imaginary place was the slight tone change- it had become slower, more soft and delicate. The listener wanted to reach out to the other, but everything in their mind told them not to. 
    “Why is the song so sad?” the listener's voice rang out through the whole auditorium, which caused everything to stop. The music, the pianist, the ever so suffocating feeling of the audience's presence, everything ceased. 
    The pianist turned to the other on the bench, their face finally visible. Their expression full of the sadness reflected in the song now turned slightly softer, as if they would cry. They moved, still stiffly, still controlled by another, but full of emotion instead. A shaky breath left the pianist as they hugged the listener full of gratitude. “Thank you,” the pianist whispered. 
    The pianist was gone, their presence felt like they had been gone forever yet the listener still felt them in their arms. The missing audience member now looked out to the rest, once more seeing nothing, being greeted with a silence; a silence so loud but so different than before, a silence that echoed feelings, made them loud and overwhelming. The now sole audience member started to cry. They were alone. They didn't want to be so alone.
    They look back to the piano, the shiny keys had no look of tarnish, looked as if they had never been touched, but no dust did lay on those keys. Their hand glided over the glossy keys feeling a sense of familiarity that was unexplainable since they had never played one. They placed both hands down barely touching the keys, feeling a calling to it. They mimicked the previous pianist's posture and then pressed one single key. 
    They were back in their seat, in the back of the auditorium. They asked themself if this was all a dream but everything had felt so real, they could still feel the cold keys underneath their fingertips. They look back to the stage, there stood the pianist from before, ready to bow. The whole audience, even the sole true listener, stood to give a standing ovation. As the pianist on the stage stood up once more, they looked directly at the true listener, seemingly making eye contact though that was impossible from that distance. Their expression was the same, the soft sad look, as if they were to cry, but now there was a hidden feeling in it that the listener couldnt make out. 
    A person grabbed the true listener by the hand, the person felt familiar but they didnt know them, somehow not anymore. The person led them out of the auditorium, heading to the doors that lead outside. The listener turned to them and asked the person what they thought of the show. The person asked the same question the listener had on the stage alone with the pianist, “Why is the song so sad?” A feeling of numbness washed over the listener, leaving only a lingering feeling of sadness and longing to feel the keys beneath their fingertips once more. 
    As they reached the door to leave, they stopped, the person moved on without them, forgetting they were even there. The listener finally heard the noiseless words the pianist had said, the ones that were now meant for them. They stood there, feeling the same breathlessness as they had at the beginning of the show as the previous pianist’s words echoed in their head- they had repeated it so many times, “I'm sorry.”

(Inspired by the song above.)