Pretty+Notes

Her long golden tresses of hair fell out of her plaits as she played cascading gently down her face. Small golden ringlets with beauty in the moonlight. Her eyes blue and beautiful, yet, glazed with tears, rouge and blush mixing and combining on her face, her saddened features. She wore a floor length peach coloured dress which whilst she played with vigor swayed gently, sweeping the floor. Suddenly all was quiet, having played only part of her story I knew she'd be back, but who was she? Where was she from? Why was she here? These were the questions that plagued me. I had been seeing this same spirit for a while now and was still no closer to figuring out who she was. Sometimes she would play all day and only stop when when the front door opened when she would run to the stairs, look through the bars of the banister and sigh as if she hadn't seen what she'd wanted to. I wanted to know her story. I wanted to know why she sighed when mum or dad walked through the the door. I wanted to know why she cried while she played. But most of all, I wanted to know her name. ||
 * **The Spirit of You** ||
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 * ^  |||| The notes she played reverberated off the elaborately papered walls, portraits swinging, swaying to the tune. Cream velvet curtains fluttered in the breeze created by the notes she played, her fingers dancing on the piano keys. Captured in time as a memory, golden candelabras with small orange flames flickered creating a little light. She played her life's song on the black and white keys of the piano as if she were writing a story. As much care and effort went into it as if she were writing and trying not to make a mistake with her spelling, only on the piano she was trying not to press two keys with one of her fingers.