Exhausted she lay on the bed, eyes pried wide with fear, her thoughts like waves of tempestuous ocean. She thought what would happen if they caught her. The violin sensed her dread and began to hum the chords of a Brahmsian lullaby, counteracting the turmoil that held her awake. Her eyes flickered shut as she slipped into a troubled dream of what had transpired...
She saw herself scurry up the tree, the violin secure in a small knapsack strapped to her back. There was just enough time to conceal herself in the branches before they came.
"She went this way."
"Follow the tracks -- Over here!"
"There she is! In the tree"
"Bring the ladder."
They'd have her down soon - she knew that, so she removed the violin and started to play, that melody without words, the melody that coaxed primal peace out of the depth of feeling. And it worked. Those who would destroy her talent stood like totem poles that had accidentally touched heaven. Hate, rage and the will to destroy became an altruistic love for one's fellow creatures. She sprang from the tree and vanished quickly into the brush. But their rapture would soon dissolve and the next time they caught her they might be wearing ear plugs.
She awoke on the bed of the motel room, the violin beside her. Men's voices penetrated the glass of the closed window. They had found her, and this time she was cornered. They would smash the violin, she knew. And she would be next. Why did the desire to hate perpetuate itself so savagely? But that's how it was. Not everyone welcomed the affects of her music, but she could at least stand for the principle. She decided to face them. She arose, opened the door and confronted faces hardened by the hours of pursuit and the lust for destruction. The burliest and roughest looking of the men stepped forward and spoke, moisture welling into a tear drop at the corner of one eye. "We'd like an encore," he sniffed.
Story #406
THanks to all who contributed! I'll answer leave my comments later tonight! So many stories to read and soak in! It's the part I like best.
Note: I've been having trouble with my spam filter - lately I've found several non-spams marked as spam. If you've written to me and I haven't answered, it could be I never got the message. I'm checking carefully now, but I can't help feeling that some mails got lost.
37 comments:
After the blackouts when her "other self" would be in charge of the communal body she would see remnants of parties and liasons and implied crimes that made her glad she did not remember what had gone on. Except for this one.. should she just wander from concert to concert and see who was sitting there alone without an instrument? For once maybe she had robbed someone nice...
"If I can't have you, no-one will!" Rufus the Redneck screamed at the cooling corpse, "I knew sooner or later you'd fiddle around on me!"
Juliet came back home smiling. It is her birthday. Her dad had promised her a gift. She knew what it would be. Atlast she reached home. Her dad was there mysteriously smiling at her. He gave her a warm hug, wished her happy birthday and then handed her a huge gift packed neatly in glittering cover. She opened the wrap. Tears welled up in her eyes. She ran upstairs her bedroom, threw the gift on the bed and then threw herself. it was a violin. But how could he do like when she had said she wanted a guitar.
Agent Double-Oh-Red sleeps with a .44 magnum violin.
It was any other day for Cindy, she came home from school and played endless hours on her violin. But one day her agent called informing her that she had a concert held downtown at the Starbucks Coffee House in the next two days. To prepare for her concert she rested for 10 hours the following night but when she awoke two of her inside strings were missing. She was very upset and wondered who could of done such a terrible act. Cindy questioned everyone in the house looking for an answer but no one knew anything.
So in the afternoon she went to Sam Ash music store and bought two brand new strings, arrived at home, and installed them in the elasped time of two hours. She practiced for the next three hours playing her songs for the concert coming ahead of her. After she finished playing she decided to investigate a little more who could of taken her two strings. She searched and searched the house for four hours but didn't find any evidence whatsoever. By the time she had quit looking around it was already 8 o'clock in the evening so Cindy decided to go to bed.
The next morning she awoke at 10 o'clock in the morning and again her same two inside strings were missing but this time she realized she had some dirt on her hands. This time Cindy was so mad she wanted answers but again no one knew anything. After which she stated to everyone to stay out her room and never go in there then she went to go wash her hands. She figured someone had to be stealing her strings so she went out to investigate again. She search every nook and cranny in her house even went through her parent's room to see if they had maybe tried stealing them. After five hours of searching she still had no evidence of the strings disappearance. After which Cindy had her mom take her back out to Sam Ash music store to buy two brand new strings again. During the duration of two hours she had bought the two strings, made it back home, and installed them again. Then practiced for the next three hours like always. When she finished playing she put her violin in a secret compartment hidden in her room's floor so no one would steal her strings again.
She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, took a shower and headed for bed.
At the time of midnight her mother was up getting a midnight snack when she noticed her daughter's room door slightly open. Her mother opened the door completely and realized Cindy wasn't in her bed and noticed a secret compartment in the floor open and empty. Cindy's mother looked all over the house for her, calling her, "CINDY CINDY, WHERE ARE YOU!?" as her mother was worried. Cindy came in the house through the front door, her mother exhaled deeply of relief, "Where have you been at this time of the night, what are you doing?" Cindy didn't answer and her eyes were slighty open and Cindy had mud and dirt covering her hands. Her mother knew what was going on immediately, she yelled, "CINDY CINDY WAKE UP!" Cindy came to and almost fell over as she awoke. Her mother grabbed her before she fell. Cindy asked while rising onto her feet, "What going on? What's happening?" "You're the theif, you are sleep walking and I suppose with that mud on your hands you burried your strings outside in the front yard.", her mother explained. "WHAT!? Wait a minute, I just remember falling asleep in my bed what am I doing her in the living room?" She asked. "It's pretty obvious don't you think?" her mother stated. Cindy truly awoke from her sleepy eyes and realized what her mother was saying, Cindy took a flashlight and went outside and noticed a spot in the yard where no grass had been growing and the ground was disturbed. She started digging and found all of her missing strings, plus the new strings she just bought earlier today, covered in mud. She was so enlightened and headed inside to clean them off.
Everyone else in the house woke up from all the yelling from her mother. Cindy apologized to everyone for questioning them about her srtings and stated that it was her that stole her strings during sleep walking. After which everyone went back to bed without a care about who did it because everyone was disturbed from their sleep and cranky.
The next day Cindy prepared for her concert and practiced for three hours out of the day before she started to get ready. Her mother asked, "Are you ready to go?" "Just a minute mom." Cindy stated. When Cindy came out of the bathroom she was wearing a deep blue dress with white roses on them, her hair was pony tailed, and her violin had the two strings attached and ready to go and she said, "Now I'm ready."
Cindy and her mother arrived and everyone gave her a round of applause for her arrival. Cindy played for three hours and played a new song she just recently wrote that no one had ever heard from her before about the recent incident of her two strings. After the show everyone at Starbucks gave her a great round of applause of their gratitude for her performance.
I hope you still have ideas for a story after reading this, hope you enjoyed. :D This one just came to me as I stared at the picture, Idk if there is any typos I didn't really proof read it much.
Love the story for the sunset in the hand pic and the new one about the ingenius kid and his time machine.
Later and take care. :)
Oh yeah I forget to post, it's a very long story, LOL :P Too late for that. LOL
I actually have a kid upstairs who probably assumes this attitude vis a vis her violin from time to time. She thinks things like this:
"Oh God. I can't believe my violin lesson is tomorrow. What if my teacher doesn't like it? What if he turns me into something?
"I can't play Paganini. I can't believe Mom gave it to me. I don't like it anyways.
"I wonder if my teacher has ever had pink sheets on his bed? Do you think his wife likes pink sheets? Maybe she does and he doesn't.
"I am so tired. I wonder what my brother Toyplayer is doing. He never has to work like this. They never make him do all the stuff I do. He is so UHHH. I will put my violin away and go annoy him with wondering about my teacher's pink sheets."
she returned from the hospital that evening, and not saying anything to anyone locked herself in her room. she stood awkwardly, surveying her room that lay as she had left it a week ago. her delicate fingers danced through the light coat of dust on her bookshelf and pushed in the occasional spine that sat too far out. she was trying to put off what she really yearned to do, what she was sure would make her internally combust if she failed. but she had to see, she had to hear, she needed to know.
she gently released her beloved and ran her fingers down his neck, sighing with content due to his familiar texture. he calmed her, his smooth skin comforting her soul as she stroked his curves. he nestled in under her chin as he always did before he spoke, but this time he didn't say a thing. her mind raced as her hands worked faster and harder to save him, she could feel his voice through her fingers but nothing resonated through her ears.
in a passionate wave of fury she ripped at his heart strings that refused to sing to her and threw him down on the bed where he lay, unspeaking. she collapsed next to him, the fury giving way to a tsunami of loneliness. it crashed against the inside of her head and leaked out through her eyes. she imagined it to sound like the ocean and her sobs the calls of seagulls, but she would never know, because she would never hear again.
a bit long, think i got carried away...
Boyfriend - "Well, one day, I woke up next to you while you were still sleeping, soundly, snoring loudly. And I missed you. I missed you and I was right next to you. I wanted more of you. I want us both to be more to each other and for someone else."
Girlfriend - "I'm up for threesomes. Just let me know. I got friends that are interested."
BF - "Yours and mine--ours. Something--someone that is ours, that we could share, to call our own. It sounds cheesy, but it's true."
We both sat there wondering who would utter the next word.
BF - "So how about it?"
GF - "Can I think about it?"
BF - "Yeah, I guess. I don't see the harm in that."
Whack her again, she's still alive! And this time, try not to break any strings!
She lay for a long time concentrating. Reducing her mind down to a single white hot point but heard nothing until a sigh, like a breeze kissing curtains opened the past. Slowly sounds strengthened and she smelt wood shavings she knew would be alpine spruce and maple and could hear cheerful voices in old Italian above the workshop noises.
Now a single note of such clarity and sadness it vibrated deep inside, now others combining,
building together with a matchless harmony.
She could feel the strings vibrating beside her and a bright polka melody filled the room with dancers then a full orchestra boomed and faded leaving a faint, jaunty Irish jig telling of fun over hardship
Julia had been visiting me quite often, I think. It was nice to have her around, most times. Except when I was playing Mozart. Julia liked to hum to Mozart. I didn't like that.
Julia always seemed to think I was special. Mother said I was special, too. So maybe I am. I just like playing the music.
Julia was the person who gave me the camera. Julia wanted me to take pictures of things I liked. She gave it to me on a Tuesday. I remember because that's the day I play in the park. People in the park like to hear me play.
Julia came back again the next Tuesday. She looked at the pictures I had taken. I was happy to show her. The violin was nice in the pictures. On the park bench. On the kitchen table. On the bed.
Julia sounded frustrated. Take a picture of something else, she said. Take a picture of me, she said. I tried. I took out the camera and I started pointing it at Julia.
Julia smiled. But the violin was lying on the bed again. Up against the pink sheet, it reminded me of the Largo in Vivaldi's "Spring." I decided I should take a picture of that.
Julia surprised me. She jumped down on the mattress just as I snapped the picture. I think it spoiled it. I told her so.
Julia left. I took the picture with just the violin. I like it. You can have this one. If Julia comes back, you can give it to her. Maybe it will make her happy. Maybe she will visit me again. I will even play Mozart.
"I know what Monet felt like," Liz said. She had just gone out onto the street and played the concerto she had been working on for years and years to the masses. But apparently the masses did not appreciate her art, her masterpiece, her life's devotion. Not a person had noticed. Throwing herself onto the bed, she heaved a great sigh and muttered, "Why didn't I just listen to Mom and become a florist? Because I said the violin was my calling... but what good is it if nobody appreciates it?"
(frances bo bancess- I LOVE your story)
Doug: Groan!
Jane laid next to Brad in bed. Her eyes were open and she thought of him. When her eyes finally closed, she would dream of him. She couldn't sleep, for being nervous. They had a concert together tomorrow, their first in a long time. She shifted in bed, nuzzled her head against him like she always did. Just like he always did, when she touched him, he began to sing. Nothing made the two of them happier than moments like this. They were in love. But still, Jane was a virgin. Because that was a decision she had made. And, because Brad was a violin.
She was thrown roughly back onto the bed into the small room that had become her home for the past three months. Worn out she knew she'd survived another night, her playing had got her through.She pondered for a moment again about the crazy and terrifying events of the last three months. Kidnapped, fearing for her very life only to realise her fate was perhaps much worse, a lifetime playing to please the uber rich bastard that had had her kidnapped.
Her thoughts drifted to escape to freedom and to the home she loved, again as they did most nights now before she finally fell asleep, to draw breath before facing another day entertaining.
He said "You can take a nap on my bed. No one's here and I'll be in the kitchen. Hope the room's not too messy."
I was so tired having stayed up late studying for my Humanities final and I didn't have time to go home before rehearsal would start in an hour and a half, so he volunteered to let me crash at his place. I didn't even bother to clear the stuff off his bed. And then I couldn't sleep. I tried, I really tried. I kept hearing a humming sound like some kind of a stringed instrument right near my head. And then I saw it. Wouldn't you know it? My gay friend has pink sheets and plays the violin. I just wish objects would stop trying to communicate with me.
"Oh, Man, it's true what they say about musicians and partying!" Sammi muttered, the hangover pounding at her head like a sledge hammer. "I simply have got to stop going out with the orchestra to those wine bars after shows. I'm gonna end up burning out in my prime, Man!"
Exhausted after a wild performance of Irish high stepping while playing her violin, Deirdre had fallen asleep as soon as she touched the bed. She woke feeling better, not yet realizing how close she had come to splintering her violin when she fell. She felt a cool breeze, and vaguely wondered if she was dreaming, because she seemed to be floating on a raft of raspberry sherbet.
She was laying there with her eyes wide open! The violin nearby was playing by itself and she was trying to understand how all that worked.
As the violin went on plaiyng, it became gradually much bigger but its melody got lower instead, almost into a whisper.
The gigantic violin grabbed her body, and made her disappear through the central hole under the strings.
She never returned to her former position as a human.
When the alarm-clock buzzed there was nothing else than a musical note on the bed sleeping near the violin.
She was dreading her 3 times a week afterschool Violin lesson. She just hated studying the violin but her parents-being very very old school, said it's either the violin or the accordian. So reluctantly she chose the violin, but this last lesson was the straw that broke the camel's back. She was just bored out of her mind. As she fell over in exaspertion after this last lesson, she thought to herself, " I should have taken up the accordian".
Hi Inde,
Madeleine here. You sent me a link, you say. Where to please? - my ears are now salivating in expectation.
Awaiting your goodies.
Thanks,
M
Wilma's need to share her new found love for interior design, by showing how different shades of red and pink colors found in the room complemented each other, still did not impress Fred. A violin, her striped shirt, and now his pillow covered in, what did she call it? Mauve?! No matter, it would years - millenia! before husbands might grasp the concept.
Fred never did. That's why he had a second bed in the room.
(are you allowed to continue a previously posted story? Because I thought of a better ending upon returning today)
... Sighing despondently, she went to sit on her balcony railing. Looking down, she took her violin, proclaimed to the world this was her last time playing it, and began on a spontaneous work. It was a marvelous song, full of sorrow, and better than anything she had done before. She finished with a dramatic flourish, and looked down to see a crowd of people- applauding! Liz was amazed. So amazed, in fact, that she lost he grip on the railing leaning forward to look at them. As she sailed down she thought, "Isn't this nice, just when everything was going so well..."
But the crowd caught her, she was famous, and all was well. The end.
I am enjoying reading you new storyteller fans Inde.
I love this blog, very nice idea (I mean the concept photo->short stories).
Such a coincidence: I got to know of this space via Frances's "Regenerated Imagination", and the story I came up with when I first looked at the photo was just like her's! =]
cheers
PS: Visit my blog if you feel like, it's in English, Spanish, French and German, and it's brand new! Hope you like it.
Well not only are you brilliant Indie but you have brilliant friends. Can we all get together in some manse dripping with crystals and fine waters and wines? :) I adore what you do and the things you inspire in people.
Indie,
(Sent this two days ago)
Got it! Listening to it as I write this. Good stuff, yeah yeah! Like it, uh-huh. Bravo to frenetic, kick off the dust story songs. Thanks!
Your music secret is out of the bag - but not your wish, which is safe with me.
Madeleine
i take it back! i take it back! i don't want to be the next vanessa may! i just want toy be normal, can i stop practicing already..please..please...
after the fake smile and great acting in the recital, Joy can now sigh with relief - and more than that..she can let go of the bursting salt in her eyes.
as she sank down to her pink bed, violin up above her head,she thought,her lovelife sucks...her music career will go one.
just this time, she said, the one and nly time ill cry..and ill never look back
Sory indie i thought i would again post a poem on that.
tinkling stars
half cut moon
and on that
i do sit
And there he comes
a handsome prince
so enchanting
violin music
sudden disturbance
someone calling
my name
opened my eyes
to realise that
it was a
beautiful dream.
But he left
me his violin.
Girl beaten up by her vile-in. On the other hand it had suffered; probably she's not ambidextrous.
Officer Brown: Tragedy.
Officer Grey: Yeah, third one this week.
Officer Brown: What a way to go.
[starts tracing around body with special chalk that writes on bedsheets]
Officer Grey: Death by classical music. That's gotta be painful.
First off, thanks everyone for making this such a great round! It was so many stories, it really took me a while to read through them all, but it was great....
Happy LOL Day: Your story turned out so nice, and really out of the box - I'm wondering now why I had to sweat over mine for so long.
Doug: One of these days you may have to pay the piper for that one. And he doesn't like fiddles.
Sandy: That story is so true! Well, it always happens to me, every Christmas, and birthdays.
OE.: Agent Double Oh Red is very sexy. Lucky violin.
Mavin: Thanks for that epic story. It's the simple, everyday details of life that I liked. It's so realistic to think of a Starbuck concert as opposted to an appearance at Carnegie Hall or someplace. Glad also that you liked the last stories. I didn't think I did such a great job.
Mrs. Weirsdo: I though this would be a photo you could relate to and I was very curious as to what you would write. Was really fascinating.
Frances: What a shock/tragedy. I never saw the end coming - very effectful. I'm going to have to start wearing a hat so I can take it off to you.
Lucy: You got me very intrigued with that story! I found myself reading it several times.
Scarlet: Ouch. At least they're taking good care of the violin!?!?
Chook: Fantastic! - what you wrote. I could really hear the music. Describing audio experiences is very difficult, at least I don't know how I would do it, so I tend to avoid the situation.
Steve Will: I loved how the language and ideas flowed so beautifully. Don't tell me you didn't think this over a long time.
Talespin: Such a true story! Even Gustav Mahler's symphonies, as they premiered, were ripped to shreds by the critics of the time. I sometimes feel like writing a second ending for my stories, but I never do - I'm too lazy. I didn't think she'd survive the fall - I probably would have left it open.
Live@the GrouchoClub: Seems so real what you wrote! It has something. Completely round.
The Grocer: I thought of something vaguely similar to your story, but only vaguely. She was locked in the room and couldn't come out until she had mastered the instrument.
Lorena: Your story was fun to read! When I saw the picture I never really thought much about the pink sheets.
Cheesemeister: The orchestra always gets the girl. Your story got my imagination going too ;-)
Irene: Now I know what she's floating on! I was wondering what to have her play on the violin, square dancing music, bluegrass, etc. Why not Irish?
M.P. Wow! That's my favorite story that you've ever writen here, or a tie with one of your others that I remember. Really cool, and scary.
April: Your story captures the expression on her face. Fits perfectly.
Kevin: What a sad life for Fred. In a relationship you have to make some compromises if you want to sleep in the same bed.
Cooper: This is so much fun for me, too!
San: Thank you for the very nice words. That's so cool that you found me through Frances - I figured you were just one of the many new hits from google. Her blog is incredilbe isn't it? I've been by a few times, and I'll be by again. I'm going to find the German posts! You must be a linguistic genius to blog in so many languages!
Happy LOL: I love it when you make me blush! Your invitation sounds great! Yes! Let's.
Ming: It sounds like she made a wish she regrets!
DeLi: That poor girl. I'd give her a hug, if I knew where she was.
Sandy: That's what it is about the violin! It's the remnant/relic of a dream. Now I know.
Cirrus Spray: Poetic justice!
Mushroom: You're so wicked Mush! Do you know, they play classical music now in the train station where I live. To keep away people who don't like classical music.
-------
wow! I actually got through all the stories! Amazing! And now I have to post another photo...
Hi there... Just to let you know I really appreciate the way you handle all this creative stuff posted here... Thank you very much indeed for the nice and kind words you left here and in my "Palavrejando"... I feel honoured to have you as a long time visitor. :)
Your story is so much prettier than mine though!
Ahh gorgeous story. Your stories always set pictures going on in my head that entertain like lil movies for hours... Okay everybody into the jet and we'll go to Germany and take over a mansion! Indie we'll meet you there! Now just two quick things - we need a jet and a mansion... :)
Post a Comment