Sunday, November 18, 2007
NaNoWriMo - The indiscretion
She sat in silhouette behind the piano with her back to the congregation chairs. You could barely make out her figure gently rocking back and forth as the music of 'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring' poured out beautifully and brought the inanimate keys to life. The darkened church sanctuary sang with energy and passion as the sounds flooded the empty room. Tonight, as with many other nights afterwards, she was playing for an audience of One. When she lacked the strength, when she lacked the willpower, when she lacked the desire, she would play her regrets in a musical confession.
The repetitive rhythm of the song allowed her thoughts to wander. Her gentle sway was exaggerated, and a closer look would explain why. Her face was shining with tears that rolled from her eyes and splashed in her lap. Her hair, wet with sorrow, had long since fallen into her face, but there was no effort to pull it back. The pain she felt was real, the remorse was apparent, but the reality was all self inflicted. As near to God as the music sounded, her heart was very far away. She had given herself over, and there was no looking back she thought.
The song changed slowly to a pregnant and dramatic rendition of the secular 'Clair de Lune'. The seeming up tone of the rendition gave her cause to wipe her tears and concentrate on the keys a bit more. Long pauses gave short moments in order to think and reflect, but she chose to stay focused on the music. She had successfully convinced herself that what she was doing was the right thing. She had surrounded herself with people who agreed with her, and she was never ever going to look back.
There. That had been building up inside me for the last few days. I'm not sure why I felt the need to let it out here, but I did. It's fiction. It's a scene from my nearly started novel, 'Echelon'. This scene depicts the emotion of the wife of one of the main characters. She has been having an affair and he (through his data gathering work on Echelon) is just now discovering it as she is at church 'afterwards'. Receipts, telephone records, business trip agendas, times and dates all start painting a picture that certainly can't be proven, but can't be disregarded either.
They become the tragic, failed heroes of the tale. Rather than it ever coming to a head and possibly healing, she chooses not to face it. That's why "never look back" is repeated. This becomes the pattern of her life, and he is left with the fallout. He joins the list of people from her life who are left holding the bag of emotion.
Did I mention that this is fiction?
The repetitive rhythm of the song allowed her thoughts to wander. Her gentle sway was exaggerated, and a closer look would explain why. Her face was shining with tears that rolled from her eyes and splashed in her lap. Her hair, wet with sorrow, had long since fallen into her face, but there was no effort to pull it back. The pain she felt was real, the remorse was apparent, but the reality was all self inflicted. As near to God as the music sounded, her heart was very far away. She had given herself over, and there was no looking back she thought.
The song changed slowly to a pregnant and dramatic rendition of the secular 'Clair de Lune'. The seeming up tone of the rendition gave her cause to wipe her tears and concentrate on the keys a bit more. Long pauses gave short moments in order to think and reflect, but she chose to stay focused on the music. She had successfully convinced herself that what she was doing was the right thing. She had surrounded herself with people who agreed with her, and she was never ever going to look back.
There. That had been building up inside me for the last few days. I'm not sure why I felt the need to let it out here, but I did. It's fiction. It's a scene from my nearly started novel, 'Echelon'. This scene depicts the emotion of the wife of one of the main characters. She has been having an affair and he (through his data gathering work on Echelon) is just now discovering it as she is at church 'afterwards'. Receipts, telephone records, business trip agendas, times and dates all start painting a picture that certainly can't be proven, but can't be disregarded either.
They become the tragic, failed heroes of the tale. Rather than it ever coming to a head and possibly healing, she chooses not to face it. That's why "never look back" is repeated. This becomes the pattern of her life, and he is left with the fallout. He joins the list of people from her life who are left holding the bag of emotion.
Did I mention that this is fiction?
