The Piano

The home was full of the noises of people who were in their own world. Steady hums leading to screeching crescendoes. A random shout of a name. Mutterings. Flatulence, released unknowingly. The TV blared; some gaudy game show and a presenter with unfathomably white teeth.

In the corner sat a piano. There had been a volunteer who had come in and played old style tunes and the cadence of withered old voices, rising in song would fill the common room and make for a brighter day for all. No-one knew what happened to him. His number was vacant.

Madge was kicking off again and there was a flurry of activity as the care workers came to talk her down.

Madge had loved the pianist. If she could remember him, she'd tell you that she missed him. Instead, all she had was a void, where if that music was to return, it would gush into it and fill it, and she would feel its restorative and calming powers and her soul would swell with each tinkling musical drop.

They never knew what set Madge off. With high staff turnover, there was no-one who had been here at the time of the pianist to know Madge would settle to a tune.

Doug, who was no trouble, in his brown slacks and his oversized slate-blue cardigan, had been pushed before the piano whilst the care workers went to Madge as she railed, shrieking in angst unknown. Her gnarled hands were curled in frustration as she hollered and the other residents shrank at the cacophony of noise that had risen above the TV.

A finger reached and caressed a white key before pressing it down. The note was unheard at first over the furore but then, a melody emerged. And it gained speed, and its notes ascended and, like swirls of brightly coloured ribbon, moved around the room, tickling and taunting, beguiling with its surprise appearance.

And Madge calmed and stopped railing and sat, a mystified smile on her face, which spoke of respite from an insular world which had become confusing and unfamiliar.

Concert pianist Doug did what he'd always been born to do but to a new audience.

***

366 words

My nan had dementia and this disease makes an appearance in my works; not regularly, but enough to cast a shadow.

I was also inspired in the feel of this story by Awakenings by Oliver Sacks, which was made into a remarkable film with Robert De Niro and the late Robin Williams. If you've not seen it, I would urge you to give it a go!

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.

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