the organ

ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of becoming a performer. she liked that she had the ability to make people laugh or cry--as if by some strange or occult superpower. and it was through her art, her chosen path as an organist, that she was able to exploit this gift.
she liked playing alone--the freedom it allowed her to improvise, to risk making a mistake without having to face the consequences, the cringing mouths and furrowed brows of a congregation which depended upon the ostensible and expected ease with which she played--the grace which she exuded naturally while playing a traditional simple or well-rehearsed piece of music.
when she was alone, the music was permitted to flow freely, directly from her mind and into her fingers. from there, it would reverberate off the walls of the auditorium and immediately, like an obedient child, come coursing back into her mind, as if bound to return to that source which birthed it and into its very conception breathed life.
she liked the capacity she had to translate or synthesize vague or vivid sensations into orchestrated noise. when she was alone, this was her joy and her escape.
the church provided her with an instrument. they gave her a key so that she could come in at all hours of the day or night and practice. they even provided housing for her, in exchange for services every wednesday night and sunday. she had no particular conviction either way when it came to matters of religion or faith or theology and felt a bit guilty exploiting the church's goodwill, but this was the life she wanted to live, the life she chose, and her happiness was supreme.
she played many funerals. weddings, too. most of her work involved jukeboxing a set list designed by the party concerned. usually, this meant the same five songs per traditional service. people, she found out, were unoriginal and generally held a play-it-safe mentality when it came to important events in their lives.
she dreaded each event but, in the moment, being well-rehearsed as she was, soaked it up, with all eyes upon her, swayed by the unconscious assault of enhanced emotions via musical accompaniment. she liked that she was able to so immediately see the results of her playing in the tear-soaked eyes of the congregation, whether it was for a wedding or funeral or sunday morning service--the immovable half-smile, genuine, with eyes-crinkled, that stemmed from her playing--the physical act of pushing down keys in a particular order, from her mind and into the minds of the congregation--that strange form of telepathy, the language of the sensational. and all happening right before her eyes. she could see the graph in her mind, crudely drawn arrows, people reduced to points marked A and B, performer and audience, indistinguishable save for their clearly-defined relationship within this model.

....more to come.