Steve opened his eyes. He looked around, forgetting how he had reached his old family house. He saw his father at the door greeting his neighbor. A sad face dressed with a fake smile. His uncle was sitting on the couch with a drink on his hand, wasted; crying for the loss of his sister. His aunt reached the door after a few minutes, her black dress enveloping the middle aged man in a sorrowful gasp and a very light smile tried to cheer his broken heart. The father seemed stressed; running around to get everything ready for the guests that would come to bid their farewell to that lovely woman who had touched many hearts but was stripped away from this world so suddenly. Without a doubt this was the most sad day of Steve’s entire life, he knew that much.

People were ignoring him, passing by without uttering a word. They would go straight to the picture of his mother, leave a flower on the square table and then again back to the buffet where drinks were plenty. Ignoring the commotion and a few murmuring voices on the background, the boy made his way to the basement where his mother used to hang out when she was still with them. She had decorated a small part of it with a few paintings and a piano facing the corner. Steve’s fingers touched the stone wall and took in all the memories. It wasn’t easy forgetting the melodies she had composed for her family all those days she spent down there. He ran there as a kid, always trying to find comfort in his mother’s arms, waiting for a new composure to take away the pain he had felt being bullied. She always had something nice to say, but her words hid mysteries he didn’t understand as a child.

The basement was warm in contrast with the cold misery that filled the house. Steve couldn’t help but hold back some tears when he sat on the little pillow of the wooden stool in front of the piano. He took a good look at each of the paintings on the wall and breathed in, holding air as long as he could. All the figures had round, beautifully carved bodies, constantly smiling but no eyes to show any emotion. So many colors in the world but everything in there was gray or black. On the portrait in front of the piano, a huge frame with white colors, uneven lines and the features of a tragic woman being chased by a black figure that resembled a nightmare. Mother was an artist. Her hands could mold any picture or song to her liking and print it on paper or ease it in a beautiful melody.

Steve let the air out of his lungs and felt each key on the instrument in front of him. He pressed a few tiles slowly, the tuned instrument still echoing lovely on the stone walls. His feet were trembling as he copied some notes he was taught as a kid. His other hand lightly brought up to touch the piano’s keys. Such a deep and dark melody his mother had created. His face filled with tears and he continued playing as if his hands were moving on their own. The woman on the portrait in front of him started dancing a lonely dance. Her arms expanded and hugged the dark figure, which led her every step to the edge of the frame. She pushed back stumbling and her feet carried her to the gray painted sky where she twirled gracefully. The nightmare followed her obediently as if mesmerized by her commands. She was so flexible, like paddy. Her torso was independent from the rest of her limbs, thus allowing her to stretch her skin towards any direction, filling the portrait altogether. One of her feet stepped outside of the panting and landed on the floor in front of the young man. She found her balance when both her feet and hands escaped her prison, leaving the dark figure behind. The broken dream seemed to get bigger and bigger, trying hard to follow her but all it did was reach all the edges of the frame and fill the painting black, like static on a Television on a bad weather day. The woman with no eyes reached Steve, still dancing her lonely dance. The man didn’t flinch. He kept playing on the piano, that strong dark melody, which filled his heart with memories and brought more tears in his eyes. The woman leaned down and gave Steve a kiss on the forehead before pulling back and swirling twice on the music. Her arms were hugging her shoulders.

Steve’s skin started crackling. Like lightning would spread across the skies and flash in the clouds; like a disease, that kiss spread on his forehead and dripped down his temples, touching his cheeks, shivering his lips, which slightly split open. His chin filled with a bit of drool that had escaped his mouth. As if someone was strangling him, his neck was pressed inwards and breathing became harder. His shoulder shot up and his arms flexed forward, the music starting to sound darker and faster, as his fingers were running around like rain falls on tree leaves. The woman who had so suddenly escaped her twenty year old prison seemed to run around freer than before. She enjoyed the music so much she had even reluctantly taken off her own black drawn clothing. As if she had broken all the chains that held her back, the tragic figure smiled towards the ceiling and opened her pencil carved arms to give her motion more passion. Steve’s feet stopped trembling when the darkness of her kiss reached his toes and as the music started getting stronger he pushed back, leaving the chair. The melody was still echoing in the basement. A dark static version of himself was sitting where he was sitting before, dripping black paint on the piano tiles as he kept pressing them and following the notes on the paper in front of it.

Steve turned around just to face the woman from the painting, who stood inches away from his body. Her breath was pleasantly hitting his face and the skin where her eyes would normally be was sweaty. She was still smiling and eager to dance again, grabbed Steve’s hand and hurried both of them in a lovely pattern. She twirled around him, touching his back or scratching his shoulders, where she later on placed her cheek and kissed him once. Steve danced alongside her, his arms once again moving on their own. In a haze he noticed the nightmare on the painting was gone. His eyes averted to the figure playing the piano on his behalf. The woman instantly turned his face towards hers. Steve smiled at her and hugged her lovingly, accepting her as she was. Silent and eager to create. Her hands touched his when they broke their hug and another set of arms slowly made their way to his stomach from behind. The man looked down, just to meet two dark limbs pulling him backwards. For a while it felt painful to be pulled away from the woman, but as he turned to meet the faceless nightmare who chased her in that portrait, his heart calmed and the figure’s touch started feeling pleasurable. Their faces were very close to each other and the nightmare danced with him as well, just as it had done with its frame partner, slowly bringing Steve closer. The woman’s arms expanded once more and grabbed Steve by the back of his head. She brought them around to grasp his neck and never waiting for her turn, pulled the man closer. Steve felt trapped between two heating bodies. His breath returned uncomfortably in his lungs and he realized that it was time for him to start pushing away from this horrid situation. He struggled to push forward and then back, and then forward again, eventually repelling both the woman and the nightmare away.

He grasped his neck with his left arm as he made his way towards the door at the top of the basement’s staircase. He opened it, took a quick glance at both the entities down there and then exited closing the door harshly behind him. He coughed a few times as he walked towards the table with his mother’s picture on it. He smiled lightly, seeing how many people had left flowers for her. His eyes averted for a bit to the picture next to hers. His teeth pressed together and he started sweating, realizing his face was there; on that frame, with a black little ribbon on the bottom corner. He took two steps back and froze as he felt a heat following him. A very beautiful white hand was placed on his left shoulder and a black one on his right. His head turned a bit to eye the creatures that had followed him. He turned once again to look at the room surrounding the two pictures of him and his mother. His fear turned into a smile that was covered by a warm tear.