A stuck key on the piano

Dan - Salem, Oregon
Entered on December 17, 2008
Age Group: Under 18

A stuck key on the piano

It stuck there.

No vibration could escape from the long, thick bronze string, and I sat there silently stared at my little finger.

Completely silence.

The middle C sharp of my favorite Chopin piece “Etude in C sharp minor”, I bang my finger on the key, with tiny hope that the violent act and my passionate will would make the piano spring out the missing sharp sound, regardless it would be beautiful or not. But what I got was only an unpleasantly silence, interrupting the high of expressing such emotional movement.

“Yesterday you were still ok!” – I shouted, struck my forefinger angrily on that deadly silent key, cursing it for making my bad day worse. But the key did not apologize. Exhaling with a long sigh, I looked at Jesus picture and the three little sheep around Him engraved on the church north window. The eyes looked at me with an indifferent attitude, among which one of the sheep’s was sort of ironical. I guessed that meant there would be no help for such a losing temperature, trying to making a big fuss over a small stuff like me.

“I am non religious anyway!” – I wrinkled my forehead, but just a moment later, apologized for letting out a disrespectful speech toward Him.

The brown well kept piano, so old that even the Baptist church owner could remember when they brought it here, in the big hall for prayers. However, the beautiful sound itself that none of the other three new pianos in other rooms would catch my passion, my heart race and my emotion to let my fingers dance on their keys.

But it stuck.

Winking eyes, I touch the skin of the black key, wondering whether I should just go to another room and try on another piano. But finally I sat still.

“I captured by your sound…” – whispered I. Like a thorn on the body of an attractive rose, like a rock in the middle of the smooth road, and like a stop in any lifetime… – “Even when the key get stuck!” I looked up again to see His face, and the sheep. Giving up must never be an option.

Inhaling a deep breath, letting the fresh flower smell into the lungs, letting the eyes close slightly when the afternoon sunshine crossed the mosaic window, through the eyeballs, I took the music sheet up, looking carefully at the measurements, the scores…

And my hands started to move, with an octave higher.

I changed the music score at that movement.