Another poem book because I have learned how to write not as shitty poems

Stories hidden in songs

A girl with dulled green eyes and raven black hair sat stiffly at an ancient piano, hands rested numbly atop the black and white keys. The air in the room was waiting readily, bouncing silently on the backs of its heels in anticipation, getting engulfed entirely by opening notes that cut knives into its delicate skin and tore it apart so its presence was quickly forgotten. 

Tension slowly uncoiled its hands from around the girl's shoulders, arms, hands-but remained in her head. She hesitantly played the first few notes, as if she was opening the beginning pages of a painful story that she already read.

She pushed the keys harder, hungrier and with more eagerness than before, tearing through years and years she can never talk about. Years and years of stories and people that have vanished right before her eyes.  It was never her choice, she told the keys that translated her words into its own language and projected it into the air. 

"This is not what I want!" she shouted, the urgency picking up in her actions. 

She played faster and faster, as if trying to speed through the memories, but her mind felt like it was lagging behind. She teetered between two notes that clashed like day and night, repeating the same old stories that at one time were relieving but now miserable. Miserable, miserable memories. 

The girl heard a floorboard creak behind her and soft, timid clapping, causing her to quickly spin around on her bench. She was met with two confused eyes, peeking out from behind a wall. She stood up, wiping her hands on her dress like she was wiping away the past, watching the little boy as he pushed himself closer to the wall as if he could disappear inside of it. 

The girl felt something inside of her crack but she kept up her light exterior. 

"Hi, who are you?" She asked, crouching down to the boy's level. 

He inched out from behind the wall. "I am Caleb. My daddy told me and my brother to come here." 

"Broth-" She begin to question but a second set of footsteps come up from behind the young boy. The dread in her stomach only continued to multiply. 

"Caleb, I told you to wait outside while I stole the car-" The boy stopped talking once he saw the girl. He was much older than Caleb, about 20, the same as her, while the little boy only looked to be about four or five. 

"That car hasn't worked in ten years. Don't think it'd start now." She told him, curtly. 

"Well I figured that out when then engine didn't even turn." He was unbothered, as was she, clearly not caring that he just told her that he was trying to hotwire her car. 

"Where is Veronica Michaels? I was told to meet her here." He asked, looking around. 

"You're looking at her." Veronica said to him then turned to Caleb. "Do you want a cookie? I have to take them out of the oven but I always thought they were best warm." She gave him a nice smile that his slowly returned. 

"There's a bathroom over there, I know it's probably been a long day." She added. 

She pulled her quivering lip into her mouth as she watched the boy skip away and disappear into the bathroom. 

"I don't know who the hell you are or why my father told me to come here but we are leaving." The older boy interrupted her thoughts.

Her voice shook as she spoke: "You can't."

"What do you mean 'you cant'?" He asked angrily.

She forced her voice to not waver. "I will explain but not right now for your brother's sake. There are two empty bedrooms upstairs that you can bring your bags up to. Dinner is in an hour. I hope you like take-out because that's what I was planning to have before you two showed up." 

"No, we are-"

He was cut off by the bathroom door opening and the oven timer going off simultaneously. 

"Stay." Veronica whispered softly as Caleb ran into the kitchen, who watched as she took the cookies out of the oven and put them on cooling racks. She lightly swatted his hand away as he reached for one of them. He pouted but begrudgingly sat in a chair across the table. 

"Carter," Caleb whined at the older boy, "will you get my blanket?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, and seemed to run out of the house and towards wherever their stuff was, eager to not be in the room. 

Dinner was filled with the clacking of forks and Veronica and Caleb talking excitedly about random movies while Carter stayed silent, burning holes into the blue ceramic plates. His grip was impossibly tight on his fork as he tried not to flip out in front of his brother and interrogate the black haired girl across from him. 

He couldn't help but corner her when they finally put Caleb to bed in a quaint little room. 

"Who are you. How did my dad know you. Why did my dad know you." 

"Everyone knows me." She responded simply then elaborated when the boy glared at her. "He knows me because he knew that he was dying." 

Carter choked on air as he processed the words. 

The girl took his hands in hers and led him over to the hideous sofa, patting his back. "I've learned that most people need to be sitting down for this next part."

Carter didn't say anything, just gripped the girl's hands in his own. 

"Parents usually know what they want when they die, where they want to go. They have their religion or idea on what they want before they die but kids do not. Rightfully so. So they come here, to me, once my mother, but she got filled with too much grief to continue this job." 

"You're crazy." He whispered harshly but didn't move. 

"I've been called worse." She joked then let out an exhausted sigh. "I know this is all so hard to understand. I'm sorry I had to be the one to break it to you but you're in limbo right now and you must decide where you wish to go. Kids have stayed here years, some so young that they don't know how to spell the word death, but we are here to help them form an idea on what they want." 

"That's morbid." Carter said, then let out another breath. "I'm dead."

"Yeah," Veronica said softly. 

"How many kids have you seen go through here?" He changed the subject off of him. 

"Hundreds." 

"Do you remember them all?" 

"I may forget a name but I never forget a song."

"A song?" He questioned, a hint of an amused on his lips but hands still shaking.

"I always get every kids favorite song and play it for them while they are here and sometimes after they have..left."

"Who's were you playing when we got here?" 

The girl flinched, not knowing the older boy had also heard her. 

"My own." She said softly, and for the first time in her life, was thankful for the silence.

—-

Had so much fun writing this.  

Thank you for 100+ reads on this book <3