Is this a writing/drawing challenge for Sapphic September 2024, because I didn't see any, and my brain just waterfalled this all over a page?
It can be if you would like it to be.
No pressure, like, at all.
But if you do, maybe tag your works with Sapphtember so people can discover them?
Some people know how to take their heart and pour it into something they truly care about. Most of them do it without thinking. Somewhere in their apartment, you can find it, if you know what youre looking for. Does this old photograph have a warmth to it that can’t be explained by sunlight? Perhaps this pet project, an old clay sculpture, thrums a little bit?
Not this time. Instead, the girl who belongs to the apartment pulls out a keyboard, lays it out right on the floor, fingers a chord. You sit next to her, and feel it pulse with life, beating a little faster when your knee brushes hers.
She begins to play, a little unsteadily. She knows the chords, and a few songs, she says. But none of them seem appropriate for the situation, so she improvises, short uncertain strings of notes that speak about warmth and light and happiness. Her fingers trip sometimes, but you feel it all the same, her words and her music both coming from her heart in different ways.
She doesn’t know what a lot of the dials or switches do. She likes to play, to imagine the effects, but she’s never had the occasion to try them by herself. You gaze at her face, flushed, a little embarrassed to admit it as she continues to play single handed trills, the other hand inching towards yours but never quite arriving.
It’s hers, of course; you would never touch it without permission, but she seems unsure of how to give it. It’s delicate, after all, and something that nobody has ever broken. She could keep it that way, all to herself, to keep it safe. That would be okay, you decide. Being able to hear her music would be enough.
She continues to play, both hands now, but the music gets softer and softer. There’s quiet for a time. Then, she shifts over. A place for a player, now vacated, sits before you. She watches you, nervous about what you’ll do.
Your hands rest upon the keyboard, and you feel the pulse skip a beat, the tempo picking up to a rapid allegro. You know songs, and theory, and improvisation. You’ve never seen this model before, but you’ve seen similar ones, and you’re even pretty sure what most of the more esoteric controls do. Playing by yourself would be simple, easily done. You can almost see the music for a march, fingers moving to the first chords
But you stop. The tempo increases again, but you gently turn the control down, to a more measured, easy step. You move over, slightly, one hand still on the keyboard. She blinks at you.
You hold your other hand out to her, and she hesitates, but takes it, moving to your side. She places her other hand on the keyboard, and the two of you start to play together, in fits and starts, making a new melody. Something slow and calm, that speaks of a new beginning as her heart beats in time with the music.
