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Creative Corner

Keyboard

Pink rose to my cheeks as I was called up. It was my turn but I couldn’t help but be nervous as hell. I couldn’t resist, much to my own trepidation. My sister wheels me to the ramp, and I am moved to the round keyboard that sits adjacent to the microphone.

I’m parked there, and left on my own. I breathe for a moment, as I’m familiar with this keyboard. This is my keyboard… yes….. I run my fingers over its plasticy keys.

A girl struts up to me, her red hair bouncing upon her shoulders.

“Please give her a minute!!” she chimes, “Aren’t you so excited???” The girl bends to meet my height. I keep it internal, as it isn’t her fault, it’s just annoying.

She stands back up, and I notice her eyes. They’re this bright pink, like bubblegum almost. I think she caught me staring, as her white-colored nail points to her left eyeball.

“Contacts.”



I flick on the power button, and the system starts up as the screen glows its sharp teal. I smirk to myself, and I start playing with the buttons, adjusting it to my liking. 
A voice reigns out from behind the curtains, “GIVE A WARM WELCOME TO MISS GWENDOLYN MYERS! OUR BRAND NEW AUDITIONEE!”

The small crowd in front claps, and I smile and wave back, to them. I see my sister sit in a row back, giving me a confident yet nonchalant thumbs up. I nod to her.

I’ll be fine.

From behind the curtains comes a tall looking girl, hair wildly died a purple and clothes that go along with it. It’s the type of style that works for her and only her.

I sit and face the window, that now holds little droplets of rain. I watch it run from the top of the window to the ledge.

I run my fingers on the plasticy keys.

I switch it on and set it to my liking.

A coat of dust lines the keys. I’ll be honest, I haven’t used this keyboard in awhile. Surgery and sleep don’t do very well when it comes to playing the keyboard. I blow the dust off the screen and the keys, rubbing the access on my blanket.

Sitting up, I hear the small buzz the keyboard emits. I can’t help but smile the noise; it’s just that therapeutic to hear.


She stands at the microphone, a proud smile on her bright face. Her eyes find themselves over to me, where they alight with excitement.

She doesn’t bend down to talk to me.

“I’m Naomi!!” The girl chimes, “Are you ready to rock??”
I nod, a smile growing on my lips. I set my fingers on the keyboard.


I turn the volume down a bit before I start playing. My fingers trace each and every key I press, wanting the tune to be for me and only me.

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