Lint
“Paul Perryman.”
Everyone looks around for me as one of the judges calls my name. I step up from my chair and straighten my blazer and tie. As I walk down the auditorium steps to the piano, my father gives me a reassuring smile from the corner of the room. I look at the judges and they nod. I bow and take a seat. For a brief second, I survey everything around me.
The room is quite small, with the only change in elevation being the small stage I sit on. To my left lies a painted wall with beautiful clouds on it. Theatre lights shine from above, beaming onto my body and the piano. Three judges sit to my right with expecting looks on their faces. Just inches behind them, several rows of families watch me carefully in metal, fold-up chairs. A small door behind me holds the other competitors.
As the lights dim down, the piano seems to glow. While its black gloss shines in the dark room, my fingers slide perfectly across the glowing keys. I look down at my new, white pants. I brush off a speck of white lint. Looking back at myself in the reflection in the shiny blackness, I see a clean face and jet black hair. I position my fingers in the right keys, almost ready to play my song. I remember every little thing about it. The notes, sounds, syncopation, dynamics, tempo, tone balance; an infinite amount of thoughts swirl my head. It builds up, and up, and up. Then, I push down on the key.
Every single thought in my head vanishes as I press that one note, and I let it ring out. I hold it, as I hold my breath too. Then, gravity brings everything down; my hands, my breath, the keys, my foot, my back. Swiftly, my hands move; faster and faster they go! To add tone, my foot presses the pedal every now and then. The keys come down at a blinding speed. Everything around me disappears; the people, the tables, the fold-up chairs. I look up as I play the piece. The walls slowly disintegrate with the doors. The clouds next to me burst into air itself, which I breathe in slowly as I close my eyes, my hands still moving at a rapid pace. When I open my eyes, everything disappeared. Around me, a pure whiteness engulfs nothing infinitely. The wooden stage remains below me, but not on the ground. There is neither ground nor sense of direction. I am there; playing my song. A light remains as well, but they not the lights from the room. From heaven itself, it beams only on me and the instrument in front of me. Every note I hit begins to trigger an explosion. Colors around me burst from nothingness as the notes each represent something individually different and it’s no longer just a song. A, red, A-sharp, dark red, G, orange, E-flat, green. Rainbows of streaming color unravel all around me. Some of it stains my blazer. The black cloth turns to a muttoned maroon. The blue tie on my neck loosens and falls. The colors dampen it so it feels like just a blob of dripping wet tissue. My white pants are indescribable; every imaginable and unimaginable color blotches them, and some of it drips down to the stage. It flows off the stage and I look to see where it goes. The droplets continue falling forever.
The mood shifts. My fingers slow down, and the essence of tranquility reverberates throughout the piano. It starts to rain and my blazer becomes drenched. The colors are still there, but the rain just makes them darker. My pants are drenched in a multitude of rainbows and water now. The water turns to snow, then a light hail. I can feel a slight breeze from somewhere. There are some ice chunks on my lap, and my shoulders and hair are frosted with snowflakes. Everything is cool and perfect.

Unfortunately however, all good things end in this world. The third movement begins. I still play at the same tempo, but everything is terrifying. The sounds and the music come out as a horrific story. Although it is perfect playing, it sings of murder, torture, crime, punishment, suffering, and solitude. Anything bad in this world comes out. I play note after note. I find myself crying because of inequality in this world and because of the injustices created; because some of us were born without a chance. Also because even after everything tried to stop it, pain still exists in the world, propelled by evil. And with every sound from the piano, I feel stabs of pain all over my body. Blood pours from between the keys and every tiny crevice of the piano. It stains my pants and follows the same direction of the colors: Down the stage into the infinite abyss. Now my fingers become blood stained. As the dark tempo picks up faster and faster, the blood from my fingers splash onto my clothes and face, intermixing with the tears.

The song becomes faster now with growing intensity. For some reason, the wind seems much too strong as my blazer flies through the wind and my pants ruffle loudly. I see a tornado forming and coming towards me. Out of nowhere, dirt gets in my eyes and face. I hear thunder and see a flash of lightning from the whiteness beyond. It’s all coming towards me now. Everything is going to collide but I play faster and faster and faster! My fingers can’t take anymore! It’s all so close now!

BOOM! I keep my senses as the tornado collides with lightning right in the center of the piano. It breaks the perfect wood in two, splitting it and cracking it, but sound still comes out of it. It’s all just dark chords until the end. But each time, as I strike the instruments hard, earthquakes form, with a rumble here, a shaking there. Pretty soon the floating wooden stage under me starts to crack, just like the piano. Halfway through the cord section, the stage gives way. The piano bench breaks, and my body falls through. I fall down into the underworld. However, I defy gravity itself and I still play, even though I commence to tumble off the bench, I manage to keep my fingers on the keys as I hit, bang, strike. The piano produces a perfect sound. The white gets darker and darker as I go down and my body temperature feels increasingly hot. I’m now on fire! My blazer bursts into burning flames. My pants begin to sizzle and then catch fire. The fire burns off the majority of my cloths and leaves me almost as a crisp potato chip. Then everything turns pitch black now, the darkness finally envelops me when I strike the last chord. The moment I do, I know the bottom lies inches from me. My fingers release that last chord.

The piano hits the ground first. The bench comes after. I hit third right on top of the wood; a jagged edge of the scrap wood that used to be the piano protrudes out and impales me. I feel nothing though. I just hang there as if nothing existed. Then I slowly look at myself. The remains of my blazer are wet, and you can see the colors faintly existing on some parts. My bare body parts scorched black by the fire and my pants almost entirely gone, there just remains some colorful blotches on the rags. One of my shoes fell off at some point of time earlier. I suddenly feel exhausted. I let my eyes close very slowly.

As I open my eyes in front of the magnificent, perfect instrument, I still see my reflection; a clean face and jet-black hair. I stand up and bow to the judges, who clap with the audience. As I walk towards the other competitors I straighten my tie and purely clean blazer. I stop to tie both my shoes on the way out. Before I get up, I straighten my white pants with my hands, but there is not a speck of lint.