I drag my fingers across the white and black keys, making the air tremble with the horribly beautiful minor. Its dark sound resonates through the church and my mind. Tears freeze in my eyes before they can fall. I moved deeper into the sound and loose myself in the music. I turn the page without missing a beat. Random-seeming flats and sharps decorate the page more liberally than tombstones in a graveyard. They try to tangle my fingers, but fail. My hands ache.

The church door flies open, letting in a wicked December breeze. Three men march in and shout at me. Their bright angry voices clash with the calm I have created for myself. They tell me to leave and I only ignore them.

The dark piece consists of many pages, but only three remain until I am dragged off to whatever doom the soldiers have in store for me.

"For God's sake, stop playing!" One of the soldiers, to use to the happy music usually played, shrieks. Hah, good. I will stop for no ones sake, not even if it means I will lose my life. I am prepared to do that. I pull the darkness from the shadows around the church around my soul. Fingers, about to snap, keep dancing across the keys, faster than any spinning coryphée.

The notes stain of the next page form a mass of hopelessness. A small crescendo underlines the second phrase, and I pound the keys a little harder. Outside, people are drawn in like flies to hear the terrible cacophony I have created. Not one of the notes piercing the air is wrong, though. The guards stand lost in the music, their demands silenced.

Two pages before the song dwindles to nothing. The little string of my sanity is about to be cut by the Fates. A tiny knot connecting me to the world will be removed and I will be left a depressed, nameless face.

The music loses its dark feel for a second, progressing into C major. The bright melody brings smiles to the children outside and shakes the soldiers from their reverie. Just like the major covers up the twisted sound of minor, love blinds. It is a type of blindness not created from disease. Faults in a person are hidden or over looked, nothing more. It can make the most stupid idea seem like the only logical choice. That is why so many heroes die at the hands of villains, leaving their loved one behind to be killed herself. Love is like clockwork; timed for the best results. It is blindness.

The wind and sound rushing from the organ in front of me blows my candle out. My fingers are frozen with cold. Another candle to my left is smothered in its own wax, leaving me in partial darkness. The sun continues to stream in, unwelcome.

One page remains. I frown. After this, there will be no more music. Yes, there will be the false stuff forced upon us, but nothing real. It is like the last morning before eternal darkness. It is like one child murdering another. There will be no signs or warnings, just an end.

I pound my last breathes of life into the key. The building shakes but no one but me seems to notice. I could repeat the music over and over, but the soldiers behind me would eventually drag me away kicking and screaming. That was one way I did not want to go. After I am punished, the people in the street will beg for more. They will finally recognize the beauty these notes hold.

As I begin the last line, my tears fall free. I understand all the secrets of sound, just like Buddha recognized all the knowledge of life and death. The only difference is that my genius won't be recognized for generations, if ever. They will struggle to find out all the knowledge I know. I imagine it like a person, drowned in a dark well. The bones may be found but the identity of the person is lost for eternity.

Fingers spread to the point of breaking; I hit the second to last chord. It echoes above me. The humans behind me hold their breath, waiting for the final chord to make everything better. More cracks run up the walls and plaster rains down around me. Standing up, I maneuver around the bench to face the crowd. I bow low to them as the church falls down around me.