Winterfest Sonata

Snow fell slowly in large clusters of flakes that consumed the evening sky and softened the sharp edges of this city he had called home for his entire life. He stood in an obscure corner of Central Park and watched them fall, lazily twirling and tumbling to the ground, blanketing a thousand little hells with peace. He could have watched them all night. Perhaps he should.

Before him stood the opening to a tunnel that, by all accounts, appeared to end as soon as it began. He knew better, however; he knew what lay beyond the iron grate and the wall that stood behind it—the world Below, a place far better than anything he had known before or since his habitation there.

What he didn't know was why he was there, why he was considering going Below. It was too late for him. It had been too late for a long time. Every voice in his head—every voice of every person he had ever known—shouted this to him with sneering words.

Every voice, save one.

From his pocket he pulled the crumpled half of a torn bill and turned it over in his hand. He'd carried it around in his pocket for months, the symbol of a new leaf he turned over since receiving it. He had a faulty start—more than one, in fact—but it was the first ray of hope he'd felt since he was a child.

Maybe . . . just maybe . . . it wasn't too late.

He tucked the bill back into his pocket and started for the tunnel, glancing around to be sure he was alone. He opened the grate and then pressed the spot on the tunnel that would slide back the wall. He hurried inside and closed both behind himself.

He hadn't been here in years, but the scent of the tunnels brought him back in time and he navigated the passageways as if he had trod them yesterday. Like all the children Below, he had found the obscure, out-of-the-way tunnels that most dwellers ignored. He took a lit torch from the wall and used them now, for while he wanted to be here, he didn't want to be noticed, especially tonight.

Tonight was Winterfest. He was glad of it, for it all but guaranteed him safe passage, as everyone would be gathered in the Great Hall.

At last he reached it, the piano chamber. It was dark and empty. Walking around the chamber, he lit the candles and other torches before placing his torch in a holder in the wall. There, in the middle of the silent chamber, stood a grand piano. His piano. The one Mouse had liberated from the concert platform in the park all those years ago.

He ran his hand across the lid. It was dusty, so he pulled a knitted glove from a coat pocket and dusted the entire piano—the legs, the bench, the fallboard. All of it. He sat at the bench and pushed back the fallboard, exposing the keys, as beautiful as he'd remembered them.

His hands trembled as his fingers found familiar places. He softly pressed the keys and a few, clear notes dropped into the silence. It had been so long since he had played. He could almost feel Miss Kendrick sitting beside him.

"Rolley."

A voice as familiar as the piano keys sounded from the chamber entrance, and he looked up to see Vincent standing in the shadows. He let his hands fall from the keyboard. "How did you find me?" He hadn't seen anyone in the tunnels.

Vincent stepped into the faint light of the chamber. "I was escorting one of our helpers to the Great Hall when I saw you take the back tunnel here."

Rolley nodded. He'd hoped to stay unnoticed. "Does anyone else know?"

"No. But you have many friends here, Rolley. They would be delighted to see you." He moved closer to the piano. "I am delighted to see you."

He studied the keys for a moment before glancing up. "I'd like to come back. For a little while, at least. If that's okay."

"It's more than okay," said Vincent. "This is your home. You can stay as long as you'd like." He gestured to the chamber entrance. "Please come and join us in the Great Hall. You would be most welcome."

He pressed a few keys. "I think I'd like to stay here." Although her memory haunted him, he hadn't really thought of Miss Kendrick in a long time. He had to make peace with that. He wasn't worthy to be part of a celebration. Not now. Not yet.

"As you wish," said Vincent. "I'll return soon with some food and drink, and we'll make up a chamber for you."

"Thank you, Vincent."

Vincent inclined his head and departed.

He waited until all was quiet again and then played the first, sweet notes of the Moonlight Sonata.