Flash Fiction-Cathedral

The marble pillars loom, cold and mighty. I wade through the thick silence of the Cathedral, the click of my footfalls deafening. Reaching the altar, I incline my head in a motion of reverence, then furtively scan the imposing darkness behind. I am alone.

A few more clicking footfalls, and I stand before tiered rows of ivory keys, glittering under the light of a single candle dangling in a glassy red nest.

Excitement and trepidation mingle effervescently in my chest, my left hand suspended an inch above the keys.

My hand falls, and three high notes burst forth, impossibly thunderous.

Silence snaps back, but the air still trembles for a few moments.

I hear another sound; from the back of the church, the jingling of keys rattle from behind the locked doors.

I run back to my far corner, clattering towards the many altar tombs. The stone lid ajar, I climb back inside. I am content with this adventure.

I’ll sleep a few more decades now, but next time, I’ll play a whole song.