102 replies to this topic

[Emerald39]

#5

I instinctively chose the violin as my first; my uncle had been a professional string player for many years. Miss Isolde would teach me to play it on Tuesdays and Thursdays at lunchtime, and we would fill the many halls together with the sweet vibrant sound of string duets. I was very quick to accomplish all of the master techniques, and soon, Miss Isolde and I could beautifully play all 45 of the Bartok Violin Duets, ringing out into the schoolyard for all to hear. 

 

I smiled and laughed, as my small bow smoothly brushed across the strings, the resin sticking to them with each bowing; the power of an instrument was something that I couldn't quite behold yet. I asked Miss Isolde whether I could learn a new instrument, and she nodded in excitement; she promised to bring in a selection for next time. 

 

I hopped down the road towards my house, with the top part of Bartok's Hungarian Duet whistling through my amazing musical mind. However, as Time had left to show me, all these emotions are simply transient in the grand scope of Life's journey. 

[Emerald39]

#6

The greeting at the door was not entirely stellar. Mother opened it, and let me in only to point at the living room. I knew the signal, and so I sat at the small table that served the three of us. This was our only table in the run-down house we lived in; I did my homework on it, Father would often write his works on it, even Mother sometimes used it for cooking. It was the centre of our humble little sphere, an altar to the possible gods in the sky. 

 

I eagerly awaited Father's return. I sat upon the small balcony above the door, humming Bartok without thought, looking out over the blocky neighbourhood for his slim figure. As time passed slowly by, I began to think about music, surprise surprise. I recombined the many notes that were possible on a piano, tested intervals and remade rhythms; eventually I came up with a lovely little motif, which i would hold dear forever. 

 

Finally, Father's footsteps approached the rickety wooden gate, walked through and stopped halfway down the pathway. He turned his face to me and said the words that always made me smile:

"I'm home, dear; let's make something special!"

[Silentnight]

Life gets in the way and I haven’t been able to really write anymore. I tried my best with this and I’m not sure how long the forum will last so I’ll be posting the stories to be posted in a google doc soon. Anyways here’s my go, sorry it’s not the best I’m a bit rusty.

#7

After seeing him after so long the first thing I did was get up from the table to give him a hug. After that he joined me at the table and Mother joined us after placing food on the table. We all laughed and talked for a time that I fail to keep track of. Father asked how I was doing in school and I told hi about my embarrassing first day and my tales of learning the violin.

He was proud of me. He was happy.

Once we were finished with the meal I helped clear the table then Mother and Father washed the dishes together in the kitchen as I went off to practice my scales on the violin. I began to play louder and I ignored the sounds that came from the kitchen.