Original Writing Essay
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I am the princess awaiting rescue in the quiet corner of the ballroom. I stand silently gathering dust in the shadows, grinning with gapped black and white teeth. The pungent odour of rising damp impregnates the air. Lonely and deserted by the warm affectionate hands I once knew and loved, shudders trace the length of my now slackened strings. I can still feel the faint, muffled trembling in my worn hammers of a serene piano concerto. I remain here reminiscing of times gone by; dreaming about rhapsodies of the great composers, sonatas with their heartbreaking refrains casting their sweet melodies out into the hearts of my listeners.
I held the power to move people and touch their very souls. My waltzes floated dreamily like a single cloud in a clear blue sky drifting peacefully into the distance. I look back on my past at all the things I have experienced: my debut in the grand concert hall, the first time I felt the touch of his hands pounding passionately on my keys, I remember shaking with nerves as the critics watched and listened attentively, waiting for mistakes.
We, my old friend and I, had travelled the length and breadth of the country together enchanting audiences with our music.
Each week we would embark on another journey to take us to a new hall, each as grand as the last. The venues with their elegant, majestic decor were visited only by the noble and wealthy people in society. It felt fantastic to be associated with the upper class. They were women who could afford to wear the most opulent of gowns made with the finest silks, taffetas velvets and brocades; all of which were accompanied with stoles derived from the best pelts of fur that money could buy- the most popular of which being mink, ermine and fox.
Their partners, of course, were dressed just as magnificently in their white tie evening suits. They looked somewhat like penguins in their expensive attire. I often wondered if it was the actual music they had come to listen to or just an excuse to show off their prosperity; the value of their wives jewellery alone could well have paid a king’s ransom! How I miss the anticipation and the adulation that each concert brought; the scores of fans applauding and cheering for an encore for which we jumped at the chance!
We would play for ages after the scheduled end of the show; this was my favourite part of the performance because we always made an unforgettable exit! We amazed crowds like this every night; they all loved us and our music. But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. The popularity of such grand events began to dwindle; the new recordings brought the great concertos into ones front room. People’s leisure time was spent in the comfort of their own homes and they much preferred to spend their evenings at the newly developed moving pictures. Then came the Great War.
All the men were sent away to foreign lands to fight for their country. War, as they say, can be a great leveller; a rich man can be killed with a bullet just as easily as a poor man. People’s priorities altered, it wasn’t thought to be patriotic to flaunt ones wealth as had been done before. Nobody came to watch our shows: there was no one to escort the ladies, and they no longer felt the need to show their prosperity. Our shows were all cancelled. We were no longer needed; no longer wanted. It broke his heart knowing that we could no longer perform together.
Not long afterwards, he went bankrupt. He lost everything: his house, his livelihood, his possessions; and me. I was devastated, how could I cope without him to love and comfort me? Who could be there for me? Most importantly, what would happen to him? I was so confused, my life had been turned upside down and I didn’t know if I’d manage. I knew he loved and cherished me, and the last thing he wanted to do was sell me, but he found himself in financial dire straits. He did what he had to do and I can’t condemn him for that. Nobody said that life should be fair.
As the day of the auction loomed the atmosphere in the house was fraught. Complete strangers rummaged ruthlessly through all that was dear to him. The workmen pulled apart his home and left nothing behind. They had no respect for his privacy or his dignity. All his worldly goods were auctioned to satisfy his creditors. The items were sold for a pittance. I was sold there and violently shoved inside a small white transit van. It was not quite the transport I had become accustomed to, but I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.
I made my final journey to where I am today; isolated here in the corner, being tortured by incompetent, untrained and inept hands, making a tuneless drone where once beautiful melodies had been played. I hope one day my prince will come rescue me from the depths of my despair; stuck here in this cold, damp dining room fully exposed to the gales blowing through the open window. I long for the caress of someone who truly understands my worth; and I can only hope that someone can appreciate me half as much as my friend did.
I resign myself to the fact that I am no longer the youthful princess awaiting my prince, but a dowager condemned to a life of solitude. I now realise that life doesn’t always go the way you plan. I will always miss him but losing him has made me appreciate all the happy times we spent together and all the fond memories we share. Show preview only The above preview is unformatted text This student written piece of work is one of many that can be found in our GCSE Miscellaneous section.