Snippet #1548025

My hands fluttered to my neck, my fingers intertwined with the gold metal tied securely around my neck. I twisted it between my fingers, reassuringly stroking the familiar harp that swung there gently. It calmed my nerves slightly, as if magically wishing for me to grow a backbone and prepare to perform what my body and mind could naturally perform. I knew I was only making a nuisance of myself worrying about such: it was obvious I was going to do great. Sighing softly, I let go of the chain, not wishing to break yet another this month. I went thru chains like candy: lucky for me I had a guardian rich enough to cater to this ever demanding need of mine.
The concert was one of many that I had performed at Carnegie Hall. I seemed to be an ever in demand commodity to the local caviar-sipping, fur-wearing rich snobs that wandered this hallowed hall. Of course, their eyes were plastered to the stage, a dull murmur of voices echoing the room of their stuck up conversations. “Did you see what she wore last time? Absolutely exquisite!” “She played at my daughter’s wedding. I only hire the very best!” “Her concertos are absolutely astounding! I just must have her at my next gala!” Of course, nothing but compliments when you’re paying up the nose for the very best.
I snickered, amused that this was all their conversations (that I could hear) were about. Forget the fact that global warming was occurring right outside this building, or that a bum sat starving not even a few blocks down….these people were ridiculous! Of course, these were the faces of the upper class: the people who live on pedestals.
I ran my hands across the front of my gown: the latest creation from Chanel. It was a lovely dark sapphire hue that draped across my body and hugged gently in the correct places. My feet were adorned with soft ivory heels from Jimmy Choo, with intricate beading right at the clasp that held them together. An obvious pick from one of the school’s coordinators for the event. I seldom was allowed to pick something that fit me… but I was used to that by now.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Oriana De Leones!” the announcer called. The room fell silent, each person on the edge of their seats waiting for my entrance. You could almost hear the air go into their lungs as I glided across the stage and made my entrance. I smiled graciously as if to thank them for taking the time out of their ‘ever so busy’ day to visit my tiny performance. I gave a light curtsy, however one calls it when wearing a ridiculous dress, and I went to the piano, resting my hands momentarily.
From there, I could not tell you more about the Hall. I could not tell you how the people in the audience roared with praise, and stood in awe at the sounds coming from the piano. It would be impossible for me to say exactly when anyone begged for an encore, or when the curtain fell.
I had been swept away by the piano, in roaring tides of whole notes, insistent quarter notes, and the pounding piano beneath my fingers. One could say my performance was eerie and left shivers in the spine…mainly because it was, truly, a supernatural performance. When I played my mind was no longer on earth, but with my guardian Apollo (who’s face still remains a mystery to my mortal eyes), where we talked about the goings on in my life and the impending future. Our meetings were the sole reason I agreed to play for these ludicrous people: I found the God that mentored me to be the most holy being my mortal ears had ever heard.
When the performance ended, and my mind was my own, my body felt drained and tired. Such powers are always hard to create and continue, and I am always weak and almost dead from such. I bowed, smiling once more to the audience who cared only for the music, and I made my exit.
And, as always was the case, I fainted, my body falling to the ground in defeat. I remained asleep for two days before it was able to recover from the draining power I had been bestowed.