Then, the moment I most dreaded. One name was called: my name. Hannah. My heart stopped and my blood froze in its tracks. Somehow, my feet automatically steered me to the empty hall where a single piano sat, waiting for it’s next victim. An old lady sat by it, her expression blank. She looked like she was sick of hearing shrieking notes and trembling fingers playing them. This of course filled me with confidence. Not!
Thick beads of sweat trickled down my white face. The lady, who looked almost bored, directed me to a seat by my death buddy piano. As I sat down in my place, I realised my lip was bleeding.
I could taste thick hot crimson liquid in my mouth. ‘This is it’, I repeated over thousand times to myself. This was my only chance. There was no going back now.
Before I knew it the lady fiddled with some white paper, then beckoned for me to play the music that they contained. They seemed frown at me. No, not frown at me, mock me! They said “You little fool, what do you think you’re doing here” ‘No!’ my mind said. ‘I must block them out, must get a grip’. So I lifted my dead fingers to the icy keys, took a breath, and went for it.
My fingers were uncontrollable, they had a mind of their own. Bouncing from one key to the next, then softly gliding over them. I felt a wide grin spread across my face and a big beam of happiness flow over me. I had done it.