Utena, Revolutionary Girl Fan Fiction ❯ After the Symphony ❯ After The Symphony ( Chapter 1 )

[ A - All Readers ]

A/N: Here is a short piece about Miki and how he feels about the stage. Thanks to a friend (Kelli) for the wonderful idea.

After the Symphony

By: Melissa Norvell

Miki walked slowly into a room that caught his attention. The room was filled with satin. The main color in the room was red. There were also white and black tones to the room. The vanity was a gold color. There were two levels to the vanity, both made of glass.

The headboard was elaborate. The background was black, covered with many red roses. The top cover was red, folded over that was a black one. There were three black pillows, the middle with a red rose embroidered onto it. There were two red pillows on each end. There was a raised tangle of vines, roses, leaves and thorns along the vertical bars at the end of the bed. At the top of each bedpost was a full metal rose. The bed canopy was red with black roses.

Sitting on the dresser was a bouquet of red glass roses. There was a single picture on the wall. It was of a small orchestra playing with many roses covering the ground around their feet. ** The picture is beautiful. I can almost hear them playing in my mind. The highest and most gratifying point of the performance: the applause. The one thing that can make me feel appreciated and loved. Knowing if you have failed or cam out on top. But you never know if they truly enjoy it or are giving you pity, trying to make you feel like you are worth something. Unfortunately, there is a time when the music stops, and when the music stops the applause begins. And when the applause stops so does everything else. And unless you are good enough you are forgotten about. Theyforget the piece you played. The piece you put your heart and soul into playing...for them. And most of them just...forget. The stage is cruel.

But still...you wait; you wait until the next time you can play. Until the next time you can sell your emotions and thoughts to the audience. You can't hide anything when you are on the stage, playing that piece of music. Not if it is your own material, because you become what you write down on paper from that moment on. All you see is thousands of papers and notes. Forte, allegro, pianissimo, those are the only words you hear and know. I wonder how they felt when they were playing, I wonder what it sounded like...** He closed her eyes and hummed the music he thought they were playing as it sounded in his mind.

END

A/N: Hope you liked it. Please R&R!