Breaking

This is just the prologue to the novel I'm working on.

Prologue

                My thin fingers dance across the keys, whispering music into existence, and, for a brief moment, filling the void in my heart. Funny how much music feels like love.

                Breathing deeply, I advance up an octave desperately attempting to forget the world.

                This is my escape. No matter what I am going through, I can always loose myself in the music.

                Slowly, I feel reality begin to drain away. The edges of my world blur and I am alone. The music dances into colors, like a never-ending rainbow, enveloping me in its embrace. I am floating beyond the reach of all pain. If it was not for the cold of the keys against my fingers, I might be able to make myself believe that I have always existed here, alone, in the dance of music.

                Dimly, as if it’s the echo of another life, I hear my mom’s voice downstairs. So she is home. It doesn’t matter. No one will bother me in this little room. I am safe here. After all, the music is the only thing keeping me alive now.

                But my mother, my house, and even my life is forgotten a moment later as I begin to fade again, caught up in the rapture of the melody. Left and right hands move independently, as the strain of a harmony is birthed. I can feel the music now. There is no need to think about what I am doing. My fingers know their trade. 

                This is what I was made for. Smiling inwardly, I switch to a popular song, singing my heart out, laughing with joy as I feel the tension drain from my frail body. It is so relaxing to finally be able to achieve perfection.

                But then, before I can stop myself, I look down at my arms and catch sight of the cold, white scars covering my arms. The flow of the music stops and tears begin to well in my eyes.

                “No!”I speak aloud, trying to grab a hold of my last sliver of happiness. “Forget it, Melanie! Don’t…” But it is too late. The truth of what I am comes back and disgust overwhelms me. Maybe music is my only escape, but in the end it also comes down to an illusion, an attempt to run from the truth. Just like the rest of my life. Fake. Empty. Hopeless.

                I fight to keep the tears from streaming down my face, wondering how people can justify inflicting this kind of pain on another human.

                But I have done this long enough to know that I can’t just sit here, drowning in the pain. That would kill me and I refuse to die! Instead, I take a deep breath and let my fingers return to their beloved keys.

                What comes out of my heart is a love song, but I don’t have to play it through to know how it will end. In my experience, love only ends one way.

                And so I sit, playing my precious keyboard, crying sliver streams of shattered innocence. 

Author's Note

Tell me if you'd read more of the book.

Reviews

[Mr_M]

'This is what I was made for' - this sentence stuck with me through out the entire read. For some reason I can't answer why. I loved the beautiful drescription on such a dark and tragic back drop.

[Rachel Grace]

Thank you so much :) I wondered if it was too poetic a way to start a novel

[Mr_M]

I think it would be a great start to a novel. There is a book called: Something wicked this way comes. Poetic all the way through. I think you would love his style. I would urge you to keep this as your start. What have others said?

[Rachel Grace]

Most people seem to like it, so maybe I'll keep it :) I'm currently writing chapter 22, so I might decide to post some more for you guys to read. I like getting feedback.

[Mr_M]

No you should. I am currently doing the same. It is good to know where the goal posts are. Can only be a good thing.

[Kylie Spring]

I know nothing about the piano, but for some reason after reading this I feel like I do.
I would read more, gladly :)
You have an amazing writing style.

[Rachel Grace]

Thank you! I might post some more of it in the next few days