"Time, the devourer of all things."
Prologue
Worlds that we forgot.
Synopsis: In the world where hope has lost, even dreams seem to be her phobia.
Prologue (0/5) of 5 act series.
forgetmenot, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
"aren't we all acting, forced to smile at gunpoint?"
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▲ Fur Elis. 1988. unknown time
the hallway was almost endless. from the abandoned corners, you could sometime catch a glimpse of shadow figures sprinting across. it is indeed, the opera of the phantoms.
familiar melody echoed from the corridors. i suddenly stopped my legs moving away from the corridors towards the nearby lounge room - the intriguing harmonization of a piano was no stranger to ears, but it instantly bugged me as i couldn't recall the actual title of that symphony.
like moths to the flame, like puppets controlled by string, my consciousness dropped. in this dire moment, i wanted nothing more than the complete name of the composition coming from several rooms apart. impulsively, i abandoned my original destination and started walking towards the long corridors.
it was thundering storms outside and sometimes the contact against the outer walls of this building produced an unsettling noise, as if the portraits hanged in every nook and cranny of the otherwise dull wall were whispering. as i dived closer towards the original location of the sound, the hall became darker and the constant playing of notes became better identifiable.
"..." i hummed alongside with the steady flowing of the melody. oddly, i could follow exactly all notes of the music, yet still couldn't put down to mind what song is actually playing. the feeling was heavily unsatisfying considering my many years of hobby in classical composition and musical instruments.
a thin door separated from such a flawless pianist and me. oblivious about manners, i reach for the doorknob, but before i could turn it around, certain lyrics untied my tongue.
"Twinkle, twinkle little stars." it was indeed a childhood nursery rhyme that me and my sister grew up on - and now the uncommon nostalgic feeling made so much more sense. but this version of the stars' praise was played quite differently - the notes were exact, but the way it was played, as well as the tempo made the song slow, and apparently sad.
twisted the doorknob open, a grand piano stood grand to greet you, alongside with a young girl, distinctive with her silver mask that covered everything above her nose, her velvet gloves and three sticks of candles on her left palm, creating the only light source. but the most alienating scene was she was several distances away from the piano, which she was watching it like an audience. she wasn't playing the piano. no one was playing the piano.
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the piano was playing itself.
i left watching the performance blankly until its last notes - frightened or mesmerized, even myself was confused about how I was feeling. the girl, seemingly enjoying the performance, clapped her hands enthusiastically.
the piano faded away in once triumphing glory, now leaned silent like a dead rat.
the girl took a look at me and walked inside the deeper part of the room. it was dark as night but i could notice a grim on her face before she left.
it was night and me again, the world here had the grand piano and the moon that will be shining from somewhere up up there. Tranquility was respectful, as I sat down in front of the ghost piano and decided to recite the delicate piece of art it just played.
