Beethoven’s Tenth Symphony

Beethoven’s tenth symphony rang through the choir hall. It was undiscovered. Hidden by the lapping waves of history. Nine glorious symphonies were praised for almost two centuries while the tenth one waited, in a birch box, written in careful calligraphy.

The pianist stroked the keys of her instructment with the same gentle love born of soulmates. Her lips silently moved, mouthing the notes’ letters as she continued.

Then, the symphony was over. The last note echoed through the concert hall with a lasting promise that this symphony was too beautiful to be forgotten. The pianist relaxed her fingers. She took in a shaky breath and stared up at the dome ceiling. She was too beautiful to be forgotten.

Gradually, one after another, the audience stood up, each fiercely clapping out their newfound love of her music. Of her talents. Roses. Water lilies. Tulips. Flowers of every kind were tossed on stage as the praise poured on. The pianist slowly stood, bowed, then exited stage left. The praise continued long after she left.

Backstage, the pianist began to pack up her sheet music, delicately folding the ancient, original parchment. “Linda.” The music director called out.

She didn’t bother to face him. “That was amazing.” He praised. “You simply must come back soon.”

“We’ll see.” She replied with just a hint of a smirk. “But, call me Sonia Rivers. Linda is a just a stage name.”

A bald faced lie. Linda was the name of the pianist who was supposed to play here that night. Sonia was the pianist who actually played.

This is good. The pianist thought to herself. He didn’t seem to realize that she wasn’t the pianist who was supposed to play tonight. Not bad for her first live performance.

“Oh, but where did you get that symphony from? It was simply breath-taking.”

“That’s because I was the one who was playing.” She winked and headed out.

Word quickly spread of Sonia’s performance. Calls from famous concert halls all over the country began to beg for her to play. Sonia was careful to handle them properly. Only expecting the most prestigious positions. Make them want it even more.

Each time she performed it was Beethoven’s tenth symphony. Everyone loved it.

We have never heard anything like it, they said.

The notes are clear and defined, they said.

It’s a harmony I will never forget, they said.

After every show, Sonia would smile. A smile only for herself and the secrets she kept. The secrets about Beethoven’s tenth symphony.

I was practically hypnotized by the song, they said.

Fame and fortune were practicing handed to her; she took them eagerly. Not a month ago she struggled to get a single gig. Who knew all she had to do was pose as an already established pianist?

Late one night, Sonia was practically the tenth symphony when she stopped playing in the middle of it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Don’t be entranced.” She told herself. “Keep a level head.”

Hearing the symphony so many times was starting to take a toll on her. “Don’t be entranced.” She breathed.

You see, there was a secret about Beethoven’s tenth symphony. The reason why it was locked in a birch box and hidden for almost two centuries. It has a strange affect on all who listened to it. They would be hypnotized, entranced by it. They would love it and nothing more in this world.

And thus, they would love Sonia.

And coming from a street urchin that no one cared about, no one gave a damn about, that’s all the pianist cared about. No matter what it did to the unfortunate listener.