Welcome back to the second part of Ophelia’s Promise: Part II, written by Lou Kemp! If you haven’t read part one, you should definitely read Ophelia’s Promise Part I first. This short story is a part of our Christmas short story collection with the Crew and Friends.
If you’d like to listen to this story read aloud instead, you can do so on our YouTube channel or by watching the link below.
Ophelia’s Promise: Part Two
Allegra lived in a fairyland where the music flowed in harmony under a starry sky. Only in here could she keep the ugliness of the world away and hold the music close.
Two days ago, Arthur Bascombe had appeared at the door of her garret and scanned the shadowy apartment like a fat, diseased ferret. He found Allegra hiding behind the old-fashioned piano that took up much of the room.
“Hello, girlie.” Bascombe tried an insincere smile and pointed. “Why two pianos? This one looks old.” He put a hand on the smaller pianoforte and picked up the sheet music.
Allegra moved quickly, snatching the music from him and sitting at the upright in the corner. She placed the sheets in front of her with reverence, smoothing the brittle pages. With an eye on the intruder, she began to play, and soon the notes tinkled as if they fell from a wind chime and swirled away on a breeze. She could hear both composers’ numerical preciseness and their hearts in what they wrote. Their shadows took shape, becoming distinct.
In perfect harmony, the composers played with her, and she suspected just for her: Bascombe didn’t notice the ghostly images as they addressed the pianoforte, and instead frowned, probably trying to recognize the music Allegra played.
As Mozart’s bejeweled hands moved across the keys, she matched him note for note on the larger piano. Now, she could see details, like the embroidered jacket he wore as he played faster, hunched over the keys, and letting them ring. Still, Bascombe didn’t fully comprehend, even as Salieri joined Mozart on the bench, and they giggled and pointed at her, whispering, “Ophelia.” Their hands flew like delicate birds over the keys in effortless synchrony as Salieri slung an arm around Mozart’s shoulders and said something in his ear.
“Stop that noise, girlie.” Bascombe slammed the piano lid on the keys and her fingers. He stood so close she could smell him; a stinking pig didn’t belong here. The music did. From only feet away, Salieri stared at the man, his eyes glittering in anger as the music grew louder. Allegra rubbed her fingers and touched the sheet music. With a small smile, she whispered the title, “Ophelia’s Promise.”
Bascombe tried to kiss her, and she evaded him.
“Leave!” She turned back to the piano, matching Salieri’s efforts, note for note, and wishing the intruder would bounce down the stairs to the street and roll out the door. By now, the composers hovered over the pianoforte, whispering together as they made changes to their parchment.
Allegra wondered if Bascombe would leave sooner if she listened to him?
“What do you want?”
“I want to buy this from you.” As he tapped the pages, his voice dripped sugar and lies. “I will need the letter that came with it, too.” When she shook her head, his face darkened, and he said, “You’ll have to sign a statement as to how you came to possess this.” Bascombe peered at the spidery writing on the music, and his voice didn’t sound as confident. “This is unheard of … a collaboration between two enemies. How can it be?” He directed the last question at himself.
“They were not enemies.”
Bascombe paced to the pianoforte and back. Then he lunged at her, twisting her wrist as he demanded, “How did you get this?”
She struggled against him. “It isn’t for sale!”
“Of course it is, girlie.”
Allegra wished the band had never invited this freak to the club. Between the creepy way he looked at her and the certainty he would become even more violent, she had to convince him to leave. Her ghostly visitors must have thought the same; now he could hear them.
“Where is that music coming from? You are not doing it—” Bascombe backed up, knocking over the piano bench as he searched for the source. He swiveled. “What are you smiling about?”
As she wrenched herself free, both Mozart and Salieri left the pianoforte. The music grew quieter, fading, as the noise from the street below reached them.
Bascombe took that as a signal to go. He rolled up the sheet music, and said, “You are useless. I will provide the letter of origin, and show how I found this.”
As he turned toward the door, the music returned, softly at first, but soon it resounded off the walls in anger. Bascombe covered his ears.
First, her guitar flew off the wall and slammed into his face. When he fell, the heavy upright tipped over, crushing him. Allegra retrieved the sheet music from his hand and waited until he stopped twitching. As his cries died out, Mozart and Salieri returned to the pianoforte, taking turns playing what they loved and protected.
The music raced around the room until Allegra opened the window, allowing it to fly free into the night.
Listen to Ophelia’s Promise: Part Two
About Author Lou Kemp:
Although originally from California, Lou resides in the Pacific Northwest with family and a herd of cats who like to block her computer screen whenever possible. Before turning to writing full-time, she was an engineer and project manager. When not writing, Lou quilts for charity and edits on a pro-bono basis for other authors.
Early work was horror and suspense, later work morphed into a combination of magical realism, mystery, and adventure painted with a horrific element as needed.
She reports that she is one of those writers who doesn’t plan ahead, has no outlines, and no clue, and sometimes writes herself into a corner. Atmospheric music in the background helps entice the moodier muse that must be present, such as Black by Pearl Jam.
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Check out Lou Kemp’s article on “What Is Magical Realism?“
