Moonlight Sonata
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Creative writing piece.
Sitting on the stale pew, i am a nail jammed between two wooden planks. thinking, stiring, ponder. Can i recall the last time my heart bet this fast? Or the last time i sat so uncomfortably?
Up at the alter sits a large wooden box. A diamond shaped raft among a sea of flowers, it floats. Sailing. Easlily recognisable as the new home” of my grandmothers body. The silence is deadly. Sitting still, statuesque, i cant see it, only feel its numbing presence. The subtle smell of tea wisps through the air, like a whisper, i am reminded of the time last spent with my nann
The kettle boils in the kitchen, i wait patiently at the piano. Pages and pages of music are shuffled infront of me, a deck of cards, i pick one out. “Ahhhhh, Moonlight Sonata” Grandma speaks softly, whilst juggling our tea and tray of biscuits. I push my way down the stool, query. “can you play it?”
Sliding in next to me, Earl Grey embedded into her night gown, she smiles at me wistfuly, showing lost of gum. Her weatherd skin wrinkles as she stares at the piece of music, like an old friend. Once lost, now found. The familiarity of the notes that play inside of her. The keys sit still under her fingertips, for she does not play, but tries to remeber the song.
As she