independent piece #2 -- the sounds

The man sat there in front of the baby grand. His fingers were gently resting on the black and white keys, gnarled but nimble. The distortions of his face could not be made out in the dark lighting, for only a single red florescent light masked the room. All that could be seen was a piano and the silhouette of a man, but that was all that mattered.

He concentrated on the piano, music is not made by picking notes and stringing them along, it is made by the instruments. The man rested his head on the dark, cold wood of the baby grand. The notes flowed from the depths of the piano, they begged to be sounded. The man sat erect again. Slowly he moved his hands. History was soon to be made, this man, was a mastermind.

Sounds, the likes of men could not fathom, coursed from the piano. The notes flowed with such a riveting chokehold that it enveloped the listener in a state of musical bliss. The gripping revelation brought about by this sole man was as significant as the savior returning to his people. He let the notes flow freely from the piano, not adding human interference to the pure, simple sounds. Slowly it could be seen that the shadows surrounding the man began to move. They were dancing. The light flickered and the air began to stir, something momentous was happening. The ground morphed, the tiles began to rise. They broke free of the floor and trembled in their might. Their worn olive color shivered with the robustness of the sounds.

The man threw back his head, letting a gasping laugh out. His dark hair veiled his eyes, but the luminosity of his pupils could still be seen. His eyes were ablaze with the pride of his talents. He was enchanted with his doings, his ultimate supremacy. The world, moving because of him, was his to claim. Outside, the mountains loomed, the sky swirled, the shadows danced, all from the enormity of this man. As the notes continued the world grew more and more aggravated. Now, the rivers gushed, the trees quaked, the valleys fell. Dusk would come soon, hopefully with it would come tranquility.

Soon the sounds shuddered to a slow pace, the man, tired from the stress, was slowly halting his playing. Dusk, sure enough, was coming and as expected, the world calmed. The shadows stopped, the mountains stood, the rivers trickled. The man was done, his time was up.