Gulp

I told Debbie (see my last post) about a story I wrote not long ago so I thought that I'd post it on here. It's not a comedic story, just a warning, but it's meant to portray the fact that music can be a healing aspect in the lives of many people.

Gulp

The smoky, almost empty pub, it was quiet--dead silent, in fact, as the lonely widows and heartbroken men were seated all around, smoking and drinking their pain and sorrows away. The only sounds that could be heard were the muttered orders to the barman and the clinking of a frosted mug being placed back on the table.

There was one man; his name was Frank, who sat in the corner near the bathroom with a cigarette hanging loosely from his pale, chapped lips. His heart was heavy with sorrow and loss, missing his wife dearly. He felt as though he was being tortured, heavy stones being placed on his chest one by one until his bones would crumble under pressure.

Gulp.

Gerald had chronic migraines that just never went away, leaving his stomach churning and his eyes losing focus. His skin was pale with sickness and black spots appeared in front of his eyes whenever he made any sudden movements, added with the loss of another patient at work months before—his mistake. He just didn’t see the tumor hiding in the man's brain…And now Gerald has a tumor of his own, pressing against his skull. He was terminal.

Gulp.

Michael, Gerald’s brother, sat across from the older man and sighed, using his only arm to take a swig of the deep red drink that tasted of vomit, with a hint of cranberries. Michael didn’t care. He had just gotten his arm amputated after a car accident…His dreams were shattered to pieces, and he saw no reason to live anymore, especially with his brother dying slowly and painfully right in front of his eyes.

Gulp.

Robert sat at the bar, continuously ordering shot after shot of whiskey, throwing them back like a pro. His overgrown blonde hair shielded his eyes from the other occupants of the bar. He wanted to just forget the memory of her perfect smile, the laugh lines and hugs that calmed him since he was a child. The bedtime stories he suddenly wished he hadn’t fallen asleep during. He wished he could go back in time and realize that his mother was mortal.

Gulp.

Ray studied the scene around him while sipping his tonic and gin. Every face held a deep frown, every pair of eyes were filled with pain. Ray could feel the loneliness and hurt in the room, and when the silence became too much for him to bear, he stood, jumping when the joints in his knees cracked. Two of the other men in the room turned to look at him. Ray ignored with curious gazes, as his eyes were fierce and determined as he walked up to the dusty, practically unused piano, shoved unceremoniously into the corner of the bar. The bartender looked up in confusion as he wiped off the empty mug that had previously been in the hands of Frank.

Ray flinched at the unpleasant creaking of the piano cover as he opened it and ran his hand lightly over the keys, managing to get some of the dust and gunk off of them. He sat down on the rickety stool and ran his hands across the keys, creating a melody that seemed to change the entire feel within the pub. It was soft and slow, yet hopeful and beautiful.

Frank stood and walked towards the piano, almost hypnotized by the music flowing from the old, misused instrument, and he began to dance.

Gerald opened his bloodshot eyes and turned them from the drink in his hands to the music.

Michael watched with a simple curiosity and began to tap his foot to the beat of the beautiful song.

Robert swiveled on his chair and looked to where a drunken tattooed man was slow dancing with himself to the music, pretending his wife was in his arms once again.

Everyone seemed spellbound by the healing music being created in front of their eyes and ears. They all gathered around the instrument and felt their troubles and pain disperse more effectively than any amount of alcohol or drugs, through the healing power of music.

…and they danced…