This Fantome Friday episode is called The Piano, The Ofrenda, and celebrates the beautiful tradition of Dia de Muertos, Day of the Dead. At our house, the Ofrenda is situated on top of the piano, where I serenade the departed before going to bed. I like to think they come visit, in miniature form, and sit next to the marigolds and candles to listen. This story was inspired by this very special night.

Music: Nightbridge and The Blue Dress by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

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TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host,   Melissa Oliveri.  

This Fantome Friday episode is called The Piano, The Ofrenda, and celebrates the beautiful tradition of Dia de Muertos, Day of the Dead. At our house, the Ofrenda is situated on top of the piano, where I serenade the departed before going to bed. I like to think they come visit, in miniature form, and sit next to the marigolds and candles to listen. This story was inspired by this very special night.

So get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

The girl takes a seat at the piano, taking care to spread the skirt of her blue dress evenly across the bench. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, then sets her gaze on the Ofrenda she has set up on top of the piano. A sugar skull stares back at her with flowering eyes. Captivating. She smiles, and the skull grins back with even teeth.

The girl lets her fingers hover over the keyboard. Waiting.

This is where I come in. She has set everything up perfectly. Tea lights flicker atop the piano, casting light on the bouquet of marigolds, the plate of cookies whose fragrance fills the room, the small glass of red wine set there for good measure, and our photographs.

I take my place, stretching my hands over the keys, noting that they are all perfectly aligned like the teeth on the grinning sugar skull.

The girl was going to start with C minor. But not tonight. Tonight, we start with D minor 7. More nostalgic, more haunting. I’m in a mood, you see.

I can feel her close her eyes as we play. I can feel the candlelight bouncing off the plumpness of the flesh on her face. She is glowing. I can feel her muscles tense and release as she gives in to the inspiration, the muse: Me. We play a swirl of notes that echo from the room’s ceilings.

The piano is surrounded by plants, some 10 feet tall with leaves larger than my outstretched hand, others set on stools, their blooms slowly falling apart, petal by petal, very apropos for the night, and others yet, the smaller ones, strewn between the pieces that together comprise the Ofrenda.

From between the lush leaves, I see the others, like long-lost explorers climbing out from a thick jungle, making their way toward the light. They daintily walk to the edge of the piano and take a seat, their legs dangling toward the keys. The little girl sits on the end, away from the others. They all know each other, she is alone. She lets her feet swing back and forth, her heels banging soundlessly against the wood of the piano.

I end the song with a flourish, leaving the girl’s arm hanging in midair, her hand stretched out like she is waiting to catch something. This is where we part. I let her catch her breath as I make my way toward the others and take a seat next to my father.

There we stay, the lot of us, all in a row, laughing and crying with her as she serenades us. Sometimes it’s like she sees us, just for a flicker of a moment, when the light is just so...

We will have to leave again soon, before night ends. She will have grown a year older when we see her next. Then again the year after that, and the year after that, until one day she joins us. The light of the candles will shine on her photograph, and she will venture out of the darkness from between the leaves and take a seat at the edge of the piano, her feet dangling toward the keys, and we will smile and cry as we listen to the music – together once again.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for another fictional story inspired by real life events.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for the use of the music composed and performed by Cannelle.

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