Angel of Music
Dark. Cold. Deserted. A huge expanse stood alone and silent in corrupted darkness. An unnatural audience watched the scene unfold from pews in the center, their eyes locked upon a grand organ beyond. A glinting crystal structure preceded it.
Two cold stone angels faced each other, heads resting in sorrow upon the old wooden organ with huge wings folded, frozen eternally in position upon their grey stone backs adorned with sweeping flowing grey tone robes which lightly brushed the floor. The organ itself was towering tall to the high roof of the theatre with many ornate golden pipes polished and gleaming in the artificial light as beautiful jewels. Upon the body itself, brass fixings in spirals and twirls so delicate they appeared to be formed of cotton thread. Beneath, a small four-legged stool stood. Unoccupied. The organ was silent.
The organ rested upon an oaken platform held up by a stone barricade blocking the way ahead. Two pillars protruded from the unfeeling barrier baring silvery torches alight with the bright hot flame of a thousand candles. The pillars provided stability to a single gold feathered wing encased in metal directing outwards toward a small oak table preceding the platform. Upon the table, six tall waxy candles in purest ivory burning down at a rapid pace formed the table into a strange alter; a center of unnatural luminance in this odd place. Aside, two symmetrical sets of curved stairs shallowly led up to the platform baring the organ as if two harbingers heralding it.
The floor was formed of old wooden panels nailed tightly together and harshly dented in places by age and careless footsteps. It was splattered in old tattered pieces of one white sheet music as if they had been deliberately strewn almost methodically upon the floor, so no piece overlapped another. Six hard benches sat heavily in rows denting the floor beneath. Upon the bench closest to the alter, a carefully positioned mannequin fully articulated with its cold wooden hand indicating the organ proudly as it watched the alter intently with keen unseeing oaken eyes. It was not alone; another mannequin was perched upon the back row peering upon the torn sheets of music laying in the aisle between the seating. It sat with its arms distinctly lowered and its wooden form hunched with its shoulders aggressively forward as if melancholy.
Adjacent to the second mannequin, a square side table, nestled against the wall as if leaning for support with ornate twisting legs in rosewood and a little thin drawer with a polished brass knob closed tight shut. Locked. The surface of the low table was full and its flesh was marked and blemished through overuse. Upon it, six melting white candles burning brightly, casting false glow in a little halo around the lingering flame. Beside the conspiracy of candles, a bronzed goblet with a distinct dent filled with a deep crimson liquid. A ring had formed around the base of the chalice upon the wood. A golden thin rapier dagger was embedded deep into the wood so it stood almost vertically with its scarlet handle heralding the heavens. Beneath the table an opened manuscript bound in tanned leather displayed crisp white sheet music with clear inky notes hand drawn upon its flesh.
A huge fireplace stood beside the table in cold stone with a wonderfully warm hearth glowing angrily against the chilled air. Oddly, the many logs that burned did not emit a single sound. The silence remained unbroken. Above the fireplace, a canvas painted portrait within an opulent golden frame: Upon it, a beautiful young girl with porcelain skin and crystalline blue eyes dressed in a white lace gown perfectly contrasting with her long flowing raven locks. Her ruby lips smiled a knowing smile.
Obscuring her, a huge crystal chandelier suspended at a strange angle as if broken with shimmering circles of crystals swaying in an unfelt breeze. Millions of melting candles blinked and winked from between the crystals playfully as they cast their artificial luminance all around, corrupting the heartfelt darkness of this place. Six iron chains hung off the chandelier, snaking their way down to the blemished ground as if seeking to hold the chandelier prisoner. The brass rings within the chandelier glinted as shackles hiding the crystals.
Preceding the chandelier, huge crimson velveteen curtains hung, held back by the tenuous hold of golden tasseled strings. Its duty complete, it finally snapped, and the curtains fell over the stage. The show was over.
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United Kingdom • 20 years old