Around him swirled shadowy eddies of prodigy and genius. Out of the darkness rose a sinister hand that touched his shoulder and changed his world forever.
A creature born of cold conniving greed whispered in his ear tantalizing tales of fame and a glorious, triumphant future. A temptress of the promising, she guided and goaded, pressured and pursued. She introduced him to the masses, to their adoration and their betrayal. Ever insistent and demanding, the temptress smirked with ill-concealed glee as her prodigy won the blind admiration of all who hear him play.
I saw him weave his magic in the luxurious gilded halls of the wealthy and carefree. Each glorious note rising and fading on the edge of a vivid dream. Hailed as a hero, a mystical deliverer of pure emotion, he became the toast of all society. Countless engagements, galas, concerts and benefits awaited his attention. Hour after hour, day after day, the world demanded that he play on. His heart, laid bare for a multitude of prying eyes, cried out in vain for a moment of private contemplation.
His life became a whirlwing of sights and sounds as each glamorous evening melted into the next. He traveled the worl, never resting for long in one place. Impassionate money and empty accolades flowed freely into his hands. Each passing year added to his immeasurable fame. I saw his back bend under the increasing pressure of the adoring masses. His face grew gaunt and weary under the strain of endless performances.
I was there the night the world fell down. I heard the first tentative stutter in the liquid stream of music. His fingers slipped and stumbled through the piece he had played to perfection countless times before. Each wrong note cut through the air and lingered on the mind. I heard the excited murmur spreading through the crowd. I heard the indignant comments of those who had paid small fortunes for their coveted seats. I saw his eyes grow desperate as his mind searched for an answer he would not find.
I saw him sitting in front of the piano, hours after the crowd had dispersed. His skeletal hands rested on the keys as he sat illuminated in a pale, golden light. I spole his name and he turned towards me. I saw somehting fierce and terrible in his eyes. Something of despair and pride and pain. He looked down at the keys, and started to play. The notes were something I had never heard before. Each mote of sound disappeared into the vast blackness of the empty theatre. Elegant rivers of music flowed from his fingers. I saw the innocence of his youth reflected in the first merry staccatos. The intensity of the notes grew as discordant shadows penetrated the luminous sphere. The story of his life poured out onto the ivory keys. Each trial and tribulation found their way into the crashing notes. His fingers whirled in a blurred, maddened dance. Unstoppable tidal waves of sound erupted from the ebony piano. Raising his arms to the sky, his hands cam crashing down on a final, triumphant chord. His head slumped forward and rested on the piano. I heard the final notes of his life fading into the infinite darkness. He would never rise from the piano. As silence once more fell upon the stage, I saw his soul escape from the desolate world. He was free at last.