by Ingrid Prohaska
There was this great music in the house. You know, that kind of music that makes you shiver, that kind of music that conquers your heart.
My steps got slower. I really wanted to know where the music was coming from. I was planning on leaving my apartment, planning on leaving the town. So I spent a lot of time in the staircase, moving up and down the stairs to carry my things into my car. And so I had heard this music several times that day.
Following the sound I suddenly stood at the right door. I didn’t know how long I had stood there to listen.
I didn’t know exactly what happened and how it was going to happen, but suddenly I saw my finger on the doorbell.
A middle-aged man opened the door. He was a handsome man and he had this really bright eyes. You know, that kind of eyes that let you staring at somebody, that kind of eyes that make you bounded.
“Excuse me, Sir” I whispered, “I heard the music coming out of your apartment and I want to ask you, who had written it. It is my last day in this house and I’d like to buy the song. Could you please tell me the title and the name of the composer?”
“Oh,” he answered, “I’m sorry, but I think, I can’t help you. This music isn’t available. You can’t buy it.”
“Oh,” my eyes fell, “what a pity, I really have fallen in love with this music.”
A smile crossed his face, he looked at me, as if he wanted to know, if he could trust me.
“You’re going to leave this house?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m going to leave the town,” I answered.
“So, if you want to listen to the music …”
Steps were heard somewhere in the staircase and in a short time someone would pass us.
“So, come in, if you want to.” He said quickly. I didn’t think about what I was doing in this moment and suddenly I was in his apartment and he closed the door behind us.
“This music isn’t available.” he repeated “It never has been published, but if you want to listen to it, I will play it for you.”
He took a chair for me to take a seat. I nodded and sat down.
He went to his piano and started playing. I didn’t know how long I had sat there. This magic music conquered my heart and I felt every cell in my body was swinging. I had closed my eyes and even didn’t want to open them after the music was over. There was a great silence.
I didn’t know how long I had sat there. I felt a lot of emotions and I felt tears running over my face. I opened my eyes. He was still sitting at his piano staring at me.
“Why,” I stammered, my hand moved the tears from my face, “why…?”
“You want to know, why I have never published the music?”
I gave him a nod.
“Well,” he said, “it’s like my child and I don’t want to throw it away. If I let it leave, other people would take possession of it, they would analyze it, they would value it, they would finally destroy it.”
“You are able to write such a great music and still are so full of fear?”
I felt ashamed about my open words and my eyes went down.
“Well,” he said and I could hear him smiling, “I know what you mean, but …”
“This music is able to reach hearts, you should let it become free!”
I was shocked about my words, talking to a stranger in this way.
He was still smiling, but I noticed that this magic brightness in his eyes was gone.
“We’ll see” he said, while he stood up.
A few moments later I was back in the staircase. The door was closed again.
I left the house, I left the town.
A few months later I came back to apologize, but he had left his apartment and nobody was able to tell me where he had been gone.
I have never seen this man again and I have never heard this music again.
Copyright © 2007 Ingrid Prohaska
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