The Broken Pianist
They said he had been a virtuoso. They said no one had played better. Why then was he pounding out popular tunes on a piano in a sleazy tavern for tips? No one had the nerve to ask.
Every night, without fail, the pianist entered the bar precisely at eight. He approached the bar, taking a free coke, never with alcohol, then sat at the piano where he played until closing time.
He seemed to have no friends, though plenty of regulars showed up more often than they would have if he weren’t there to play. He rarely spoke, merely segueing smoothly from one song to the next, always note perfect, always mesmerizing.
Pan continued to serve his penance for claiming musical ascendance over Apollo thousands of years in the past. Instruments evolved into new forms. Musical iterations changed. Pan’s sentence remained the same. He would play in venues befitting one who dared challenge Apollo until the god saw fit to release him from his torment.
As he began yet another vapid, hateful tune, Pan raised his eyes skyward to a face only he could see. Apollo still sported a vengeful smile, enjoying his revenge. There would be no reprieve this century.
No idea from whence this one sprang. Hope you enjoyed it!
A little too much pride does easily morph into a stumbling block that precedes our fall. I've been thinking a lot about pride lately. We deserve to be proud of our abilities and accomplishments however there is a line, hmm? And Pan knows where that line is, now, hmm 😉
Loved this! Now I have Billy Joel's "Piano Man" stuck in my head though!