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Original Writing - Personification of a Piano

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Piano Concerto I am the princess awaiting rescue in the quiet corner of the ballroom. I stand silently gathering dust in the shadows, grinning with gapped black and white teeth. The pungent odour of rising damp impregnates the air. Lonely and deserted by the warm affectionate hands I once knew and loved, shudders trace the length of my now slackened strings. I can still feel the faint, muffled trembling in my worn hammers of a serene piano concerto. I remain here reminiscing of times gone by; dreaming about rhapsodies of the great composers, sonatas with their heartbreaking refrains casting their sweet melodies out into the hearts of my listeners. I held the power to move people and touch their very souls. My waltzes floated dreamily like a single cloud in a clear blue sky drifting peacefully into the distance. I look back on my past at all the things I have experienced: my debut in the grand concert hall, the first time I felt the touch of his hands pounding passionately on my keys, I remember shaking with nerves as the critics watched and listened attentively, waiting for mistakes. ...read more.


We would play for ages after the scheduled end of the show; this was my favourite part of the performance because we always made an unforgettable exit! We amazed crowds like this every night; they all loved us and our music. But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. The popularity of such grand events began to dwindle; the new recordings brought the great concertos into ones front room. People's leisure time was spent in the comfort of their own homes and they much preferred to spend their evenings at the newly developed moving pictures. Then came the Great War. All the men were sent away to foreign lands to fight for their country. War, as they say, can be a great leveller; a rich man can be killed with a bullet just as easily as a poor man. People's priorities altered, it wasn't thought to be patriotic to flaunt ones wealth as had been done before. Nobody came to watch our shows: there was no one to escort the ladies, and they no longer felt the need to show their prosperity. ...read more.


I was sold there and violently shoved inside a small white transit van. It was not quite the transport I had become accustomed to, but I didn't really have a choice in the matter. I made my final journey to where I am today; isolated here in the corner, being tortured by incompetent, untrained and inept hands, making a tuneless drone where once beautiful melodies had been played. I hope one day my prince will come rescue me from the depths of my despair; stuck here in this cold, damp dining room fully exposed to the gales blowing through the open window. I long for the caress of someone who truly understands my worth; and I can only hope that someone can appreciate me half as much as my friend did. I resign myself to the fact that I am no longer the youthful princess awaiting my prince, but a dowager condemned to a life of solitude. I now realise that life doesn't always go the way you plan. I will always miss him but losing him has made me appreciate all the happy times we spent together and all the fond memories we share. ...read more.

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