Jan

-1-

Jan entered her practice room, violin in hand. As she switched on the centre light, she saw that the chairs were empty. She smiled, for she knew they would come soon.

Jan stood at the spot where the centre light was casted. It looked like as if it was a stage, the centre light acting as a spotlight, and the twelve chairs – arranged in a circular pattern - were seats for the audience.

Jan opened up her violin case. She started applying rosin to the hair of her bow. Goodness, she muttered. It had been only a month ago she paused playing on her violin. Yet, she felt as if an experienced right hand was going up and down the hair, applying the rosin with great accuracy. She then took out her violin, and then - after rubbing the sides with a cloth – she started tuning the strings. An A, then a D…..

‘What’s that? The Berg Violin Concerto?’ someone jokingly commented. Jan looked back, and saw – yes, Mark had come. There he was, sitting on a chair, looking mysterious in the faint light. Mark was an accomplished pianist and accompanist – besides being a jokester.

‘No. Just tuning. I know it sounds a bit like that, he he’, she replied.

‘You better do that fast. Oh look! the others are coming now: Joe, Tom, Anita, Susan, Mr. and Mrs. Corn and their three children and the twins: Mike and Spike.’

Jan turned front, and saw her surroundings. Indeed they had come. All the seats were filled with the remaining eleven people left to come. She faced the audience, picked up one of them, and asked:

‘So, Mike. What do you want to hear today?’

Some moments passed by. Then Mike replied – after a lot of thought:

‘Allegro assai. Violin Sonata No.3. J.S. ...

‘Bach. Sit down, Mike.’ Jan replied, interrupting him. She hummed once the tune – silently – and then, flourishing her bow, she started playing.

The audience just sat in their seats, mesmerized. How beautiful she played! Every note was being played with accuracy, and clarity. Her hair swished about, twirling as if a breeze as passing through her hair. ‘Marvelous!’ ‘Fantastic!’ were some of the comments hurled towards her from the excited audience.

When the piece ended – after five minutes or so – she opened her eyes, to see the audience. Some burst into tears of joy, others wildly cheered, and others kept on clapping until their hands got red. Jan didn’t know how many times she bowed, or said ‘Thank you!’

‘Ok, I think that’s done. Anita, what do you want to hear?’

‘The ‘Minuet and Trio’ from Violin Sonata D.408, Franz Schubert please!’

‘Alright.’ After humming one line, she started to play, with Mark as the accompanist for piano.

The audience just stared at her, motionless. What qualities did God give to her? Such beautiful, such clear melody they had never heard before. It felt, as if they were in a garden in the spring season, where a ray of sunlight came in through the leaves, and it fell on the spot where Jan was playing. Amazingly, at the same time, Jan also felt that she was in this garden, playing away to her heart’s delight.

Finishing the piece – after three minutes – she received the same reaction as she got for the previous one. Great praise was also Mark, who played very well, without making any mistake.

‘Alright. Time for another one. Mr. Corn! What do you want to hear?’

Mr. Corn thought for a while, then said, ‘Wieniawski Polonaise.’

‘D Major Op.4?’

‘Correct, Young lady.’

Within two seconds, she started playing this marvelous – yet difficult – piece, with Spike this time as the accompanist. The audience yet again got hypnotized. This girl knew some magic, or else how could she play this devilish piece, and sound beautiful at the same time? 

After its completion – after four minutes – a standing ovation was given to her by everyone. She was so mesmerized by it. Finally, after so many days of practice, she has finally given a performance…

‘Hey, who’s there?’ Mark suddenly shouted. 

‘Why, what happened?’ Spike asked.

‘I saw someone open the door, and immediately close it. Don’t know who.’

Jan heard the footsteps of someone going downstairs. She might have known who was the person who tried to peek in over here….

Her own niece.

***

-2-

April Wallis rushed down to the dining room. While going down to watch some television, she suddenly heard the sound of a violin playing inside the ‘big room’. Curious, she opened the door, and got the fright of her fifteen-year old life, when she found no one over there!

Reaching the dining room, she found her uncle – Mr. John Wallis – and her aunt – Mrs. Angela Wallis – seated together, listening to the 3 o’clock news on the radio.

‘What’s wrong, honey? Why do you look so sweaty? Gosh, you are panting!’ Angela asked her, anxiously.

‘Aunty, aunty! You’ve got to come with me! There’s someone in that big room! While I was coming downstairs…’

‘….you heard the sound of a violin coming from that room, right?’ John said, interrupting her.

‘Alright. Angela, why don’t you bake gingerbread cookies for the evening?’ John told Angela, and winked at her, which meant – I need some time to talk to her. Angela understood, and went into the kitchen.

John stuffed tobacco into his pipe, lighted it, and – after giving off a smoke – he began:

‘April, there is something about that room which I need to tell you. You must know that your cousin Jan – short for Janice – died two years back due to a severe internal hemorrhage, right? Well, April, do you know how she got that?’

‘How?’

‘You’ll know. Just wait for a while.’

Then, taking another smoke, John continued:

‘Jan was so good at – almost – everything. Starting from studies to sports, from arts to music, everything was done by her with perfection. The most interesting thing to her was music. It was while playing she died. Ten years ago, she died while playing a Bach piece – ‘Gavotte en Rondeau’ from the third Partita.’

‘April, the things which I’m now going to tell you, should not ever reach outside of this threshold. No one knows, except me, your aunt, your mama and papa, and now you – April. You see, Jan had a disorder, which was joined by another – just three months before her death.’

‘What were they?’

‘Schizophrenia and hallucinations.’ John said, unable to control his tears any more.

Wiping them, he continued: ‘From the age of seven, she had schizophrenia. She used to tell us every night, that at school, she would sometimes hear voices – voices which would tell her that she was a good girl. No bad manners were exhibited by her, etc. This continued, but as long as the voices didn’t hurt her, we were relieved. The surprising thing was that, despite of all this, she continued to study music – she started at age three – and she kind of forced herself in doing so. We were happy with it, for we were – for some days – stressed about her condition.

‘However, things didn’t remain so good for long. The ‘good’ voices – from the age of fifteen – turned into threatening messages and swearings and slangs, which resulted into the deterioration of my daughter’s health and everything. The voices became so much, that she even stopped going outside of the house for one week. She stayed back at her room, and from there – the whole day and night – the sound of her violin would waltz about the house. At one point, she even tried to break her violin – but luckily for me, she didn’t do it. Thank God!’

‘One day – a month before her death – at the breakfast table, she told us that last night, she had been performing Vieuxtemps’ Fourth Violin Concerto – the third movement -  with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, and went on to describe how fabulous the performance was, and at first me and Angie thought that it was only a dream. Later, these ‘dreams’ became so much in number – she used to see them twenty-four/seven – that I began to grow fearful about her. After some days, when she suddenly tried to beat herself – while viewing one of those dreams – that I immediately took her to our family doctor, where – after examining her – the doctor told me that she was having….

‘Hallucinations?’ April anxiously asked.

‘Correct. Oh, how she kept herself alive for the remaining days of her life! For the last three weeks before her death, she never stepped out of her room. Screams, laughter, clapping, wild behavior – this what basically described her. In spite of this – amazingly – she continued to play on her violin every day, despite it having out-of-tuned strings, and a dilapidated condition. And then, it all ended on 11th July. She apparently, while struggling with the voices, had hit hard with one of the bedsteads, and fell unconscious. While taking her to the hospital, she died. April, here you go – the reason of her death was those voices!’

A few moments of silence. John quietly smoked his pipe, while April thought about all she heard from her uncle. Was it all really true?

‘Those voices’, John said – as if to he himself – ‘Those damned voices took her away. She had been fighting for her life – just because of some voices!’

April understood that her uncle needed some rest – just to coup from the memory of this terrible incident. So, quietly, she got up from her chair, went out of the dining room, and silently, went upstairs to her room.

As she passed the ‘big room’, she heard again the sound of violin coming from inside. It was a different tune. Just like her, April also started violin at the age of five. Now that she knew all about the mystery of that room, a new question came to her – should she enter that room one more time, only to see her elder niece who had died ten years ago? She now finally understood that this room was very much special to Jan.

No longer to keep in her curiosity, she opened the door.

The room was dark – only illuminated at the centre by a spotlight, which oscillated from one end to the other – as if someone tapped it lightly. April heard distinctly the sound of the violin – yes, it was coming from the centre. No one was there, except the violin – as if someone was playing right at that moment, in the ‘big room’ – which was Jan’s practice room.

April walked out of the room. Closing the door, she went into her room, and sat on her bed. She suddenly felt uneasy over there.

Firstly, the piece which was being played over there was the same which Jan played right before her death – at the merciless hands of the voices. It was Bach’s ‘Gavotte en Rondeau’, from his third Partita – exactly the same which Jan played on the day of her death!

Secondly, this – even to this day – makes April get goose bumps all over,

While she was in that room, she heard – in those twelve chairs placed over there – strange, soft sounds.

Breathing sounds.

As if, there were twelve people, seated over there…..

***

M.Macabre

24.06.2020

Dedicated to: Johann Sebastian Bach and Henryk Wieniawski

Illustration by: Anonymous.