By Aiyana Spear
Ghostly fingers stroked the keys and beautiful music resulted.
It was a party, and some say that you hear the most lovely music in the world at parties.
No one seemed to notice that it didn’t appear that anyone was playing the instrument; it is more important for the music to be heard than it
is for the musician to be seen after all.
Sonatas and concertos filled the room, shoes clicking in time with the rhythm, dresses of every color only enhancing the magnificent gold decorations.
“Thump. Thump. Thump.” ….. hide hide hide
Whispers, fabric rustling, heels clicking, music silenced
Silence, eyes following movement, muffled breathing
“Thump. Thump. Thump.” ….. come out come out dance dance
Colorful dresses, a sonata continued, heels tapping the rhythm
Maybe it wasn’t a party now, the
music not as lovely as before, the dancing not as lively.
Apprehension now lived on their faces, not fear-yet, but nerves.
What if she comes back?