Charlie's Song

Flash fiction (under 300 words).

The first notes of the Moonlight Sonata drift into the courtyard from the open window of Charlie’s study.  The delicate ripples of the main theme float above the dark undulation of the bass line, his interpretation of the first movement as mellow and languorous as the twilight.  I light a cigarette, absently swirling my glass of Pinot Noir with the other hand.  On summer evenings I sit out on the veranda to listen to Charlie practice.

The first time Miranda and I met Charlie I immediately noticed his hands, impossibly graceful hands for a man, his fingers fragile porcelain, his nails translucent pink petals.  He had the hands of an artist, only hands that delicate could fashion beauty from air.  He played Liszt’s Liebestraum for us that day and as the last notes faded to a whisper Miranda ran out of the apartment without a word.  I wanted to follow but I caught something in her eyes that terrified me.  As Charlie and I finished the bottle of Nebbiolo I saw Miranda staring at us from our balcony across the square.  Nervously I considered the dark dregs at the bottom of the glass and when I looked up she was gone.

And as he reaches the final phrase before the second movement Charlie stops playing.  A few low words are exchanged, silhouettes momentarily spreading across the drawn curtains just before the light in the room is extinguished.  Gazing up at the stars woven into the folds of cloud and sky I begin to weep.  Miranda never could sleep alone.

Reviews

[ebur™]

Very descriptive, but like Colorful Sin said, you didn't overdo it. A very intriguing story from the beginning, it made me read until the end. And by the way, nice vocabulary words ;)

Great job :)

[Colorful Sin]

This is really good. I like how you described his hands. You went into great detail yet you didn't over do it.

When reading I started to get excited for the ending. Thinking, "What is going to happen next? Why was Miranda fearful?" Very good.