A Bell Sound Everlasting

Evelyn, Part 1

Chapter 2: Evelyn, Part 1

Music is said to be one of the most beautiful things in the known world. It's in music that I allowed myself to let go, to let myself flow through it as if dancing—similar to ribbon being picked up by the swirling wind as it passes. It entwines itself together, sometimes soft and gentle, brushing against my skin or whispering in my ear. There are times when it is blustering and adventurous when you can't hold back your emotions, and it's as though music is emotion itself.

It was during one of those moments when music was surrounding me in one of the biggest and loveliest of auditoriums during a performance that I found myself locked within instead of being able to run freely through the windy wood of sound. In that place I had been so many times, it was there that things began to happen.

When I played, the music flowed through me. From the tips of my fingers, on through my body, sending exhilarating feelings into my very soul. I liked to imagine the audience felt what I played for them. I listened as the well-practiced orchestra played together, every note burned into my head from our long rehearsals over the last few days. Though there was a part of me that remembered their presence, it was easily suppressed, for I could so easily lose myself in the music. Once finished, I'd emerge back into the real world amongst everyone, always slightly awkward at having returned. I never looked it, of course. Performing arts trains you to never let that show. At the same time, it was the most comfortable place in the world for me, as if it was where I was meant to be. A place I could be a part of the music. Music freed my soul and let the rush of feelings bring a flush to my skin. It made my heart pound in my chest while my fingers flowed over the delicate white and black keys of the stage piano.

That day, as usual, I was well prepared. The day went by like any other performing day. Lights went down for the audience, while behind the curtain it went from pitch black to blindingly bright from the stage lights bearing down while the curtain rose. A silence followed the murmurs of the crowd in their seats. The last of the curtain disappeared behind the light, making it so nothing could be seen where hundreds now waited to hear our glorious sound.

The conductor stood next to me as we watched the events go through the motions, after which he moved forward and stepped into the light. Applause followed and stopped shortly after he took his place and bowed. That was my cue. The conductor raised his arm and looked at me, nodding with a smile. I took a few quick breaths while fidgeting with my black dress, and walked onto the stage. More applause. I brushed my long wavy hair over my shoulders to rest down my back as I came out from behind backstage into a second spotlight that followed my movements, and I smiled in return. Smile held, I turned towards the front and bowed in unison to him, then walked over and took my place at the seat of the grand piano. It shone unmistakable from the reflected stage lights on its polished black surface.

My breathing came quick and hard until I became calmer and felt more at home with my surroundings. At first, I only felt the cold from the untouched keys and the air-conditioned auditorium, mixing with nerves and bringing goosebumps to my arms. I became aware of everything perceptible, every smell, touch, and sound. The prickling feeling of the hair rising on the back of my neck grew as the excitement of adventure in the music began. The sights in my peripheral vision through my near black, dark brown hair, were only briefly distracting. All happening within a matter of seconds, I froze until I could focus, then it all became a blur, and I couldn't recall it afterward. I began to play, as did everyone else once the conductor directed them in. The cold keys beneath my fingers quickly warmed as I sped in parts of the piece at hand. It's usually at this point that the crowd, my fellow musicians, and the hot stage lights all leave me, save for my conscious thoughts of how the song feels. The rush of running water down a river doesn't compare, even in the utmost storm. As the piece moved along, time slowing and quickening at my command, my fingers trickled down the keys, and my feet moved with the pedals.

Just when the music took hold of me, as though it were playing me instead of I playing it, something took over—a kind of hold where everything flows perfectly. The piano and I, together, gave the essence of spirit through its touch and sound. As we played, something felt different. The music from the orchestra was off, all of it slowing down dramatically. I opened my eyes to see the conductor moving in slow motion. Shocked, I turned my head, hoping to see anything different from the others, but they too were slowing like a winding-down clock until finally, they all stopped. Out of habit, my fingers kept playing. Before I could fall into a panic, something covered over my eyes. Suddenly a picture shrouded my mind, like a waking dream, and the vigorous pounding of my heart ceased entirely. Time wasn't stopped here but moved at a slower pace as I continued flowing smoothly, my presence breaking through its strange aura.

A brush of green enveloped me and moved before me so quickly that I had no time to think of its change until after. The auditorium was gone, and I was standing somewhere—or nowhere. My breath caught in my throat.

Something ahead . . . it was a man. I squinted through the blackness that melted around me, bordered by what was left of the brush of green in front. I could see more clearly that it was a younger man. His noble stance stood next to a horse amid the trees. Behind them, light from the sun acted as a kind of spotlight and cast dancing shadows all around the outskirts. Large beams of sunshine burst and sparkled down through the trees, tiny bits of dust floating alongside leaves here and there within the rays. He stared at me, and the beautiful horse stared as well. Never had I seen such a gorgeous horse, its buttercup color held so perfectly like it was from a painting. The mane flowing around it seemed to shift from a kind of shining starlight color to a charcoal black, interchangeably. They were noble looking, and inside both pairs of eyes looked filled with wisdom and knowing. I suddenly felt awkward and very aware of myself. What exactly was going on?

"Who are you?" I spoke, though I didn't recognize my voice as it bounced off the strange black and green air. They didn't move, and no sound came from them. Gazes remaining fixed on me, they were still as stone.

For half a second it looked like they flinched right when I blinked. My eyes felt strange in this slow-motion dimension, and I wondered if my mind was combining forces with my eyes to play layered tricks on me. Then the man nodded at me. That was not a trick. His serious yet kind expression made me both confused and curious. His mesmerizing gaze was holding me in his path. Then in an instant, he was ripped away, and the picture was gone. Everything vanished entirely, and the blackness faded, revealing the auditorium and the stage where I still sat at the piano bench. I'd returned.

The orchestra had not resumed. No one had moved from the time I left. My heart raced inside my chest, and my hands began to shake. What was happening? Before any other thoughts could cross my mind, I sensed something in the air of the large room, and I turned just in time to see the air ripple like water and pass through everyone, leaving my body rigid with fear. Time thawed and the conductor swooped his arms, directing a final command, and the orchestra finished, leaving me stuck in place with my mouth hanging open. The crowd happily applauded. The conductor shot me a concerned look before he turned around to face them, but I wasn't concerned with him. I was more worried about my sanity at this point.

Time had slowed, stopped, and then sped back up, leaving me as a witness. The vision, if that had been what it was, seemingly ceased as quickly as it had arrived. I needed more sleep than I thought. I roughly shook my head, trying to snap out of the denial. This wasn't just lack of sleep or stress, this felt more dire. My therapist said I was doing well this last year, but could she have been wrong? It felt so real . . . but was I seeing things now? My one musical piece in this performance was a disaster tonight as a result of a possible mental relapse. Snapping back to the center of the performance, I shook my uneasy feelings aside, stayed calm, and tried to finish gracefully. William wouldn't be happy about this.

The audience gave a standing ovation, each member applauding enthusiastically. The conductor started to speak to them in the baritone voice that always made me feel calmer every time I heard it. I turned and stared at the piano keys as I ran a hand across them. It took a moment for me to move again. Why had the vision come and gone so quickly? It seemed to have lasted forever, as the mysterious man and horse stared at me, yet why had it come at all? What did it mean?

I stood then and smiled in a way I had always gotten compliments on, and bowed with my fellow musicians. The lights became brighter in the auditorium, revealing the rest of the room as though it was smiling in its own way and welcoming me back.

“Ms. Evelyn Bell." I bowed again when the conductor called my name, though it was barely audible amid the applause. I managed to get things unscrambled in my head so I could finish, but out of all the shocking things just experienced, the one thing I couldn't wrap my mind around was the man. I had never seen such eyes.