Essay on Music of the Night: A Short Story

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Music of the night

Pain shot through Ruth’s gnarled knotted hands. Hands twisted by arthritis. Hands that once made audiences weep as they flew over the keyboard of the Steinway. Hands, which the New York Times once called the hands of an angel. Now she was the one weeping. She thought of her wasted life. Her gorgeous silk dresses replaced with rough clothing. Now she wore garments appropriate for cleaning the concert hall where she once performed. Her dreams were gone dashed on the rocks of reality. She took this job to near the stage that had brought her so much joy.
Tears misted her eyes obscuring her vision. Never again would she hear the thunderous applause, or experience the standing ovation of thousands. Those days were
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Music of the night

Pain shot through Ruth’s gnarled knotted hands. Hands twisted by arthritis. Hands that once made audiences weep as they flew over the keyboard of the Steinway. Hands, which the New York Times once called the hands of an angel. Now she was the one weeping. She thought of her wasted life. Her gorgeous silk dresses replaced with rough clothing. Now she wore garments appropriate for cleaning the concert hall where she once performed. Her dreams were gone dashed on the rocks of reality. She took this job to near the stage that had brought her so much joy.
Tears misted her eyes obscuring her vision. Never again would she hear the thunderous applause, or experience the standing ovation of thousands. Those days were past. When she came on stage, the audience held their breath. Even in the largest concert hall, you could hear the smallest sound. If someone coughed those seated around, that individual would turn frowning in their direction. You could almost hear an audible sigh at the first note. Audiences set for hours mesmerized by the reverberation emitting from the grand.
Groaning she painfully picked up cloth and polished brass handles on the main doors. Through these doors thousands of excited people rushed to hear her. It seemed a lifetime ago.
“Yo, Rosy.” Ralph called. “What you doin’? Yous spost to be done with these doors hours a go”.
“Sorry Ralph some kid upchucked in the third row .It took a while to clean it up”. Ruth said

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