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Violin
#WritcoStoryPrompt105
Is the future preconceived or does it change very frequently? Answer the question by writing a story.
Violin:
She stood on the platform waiting for the 9:00 train to the city to come. She had an audition with the philharmonic that afternoon, an audition she had been working her whole life for: lead violin. Her young slender fingers gripped the wooden handle of her violin case. Her other hand had an elegant grip on her bag slung snugly on her shoulder. So engrossed in her own feelings of anxiety and deep in thought on how to dampen those feelings, she didn't notice as the woman with the wrinkled face and withered body approached her. Then all of a sudden an icy hand was on her shoulder and a wrinkled mouth whispered in her ear, a slight squeeze on the shoulder - then as the next train rushed in, the woman seemed to vanish in the vapor of the train. She didn't think much about her audition after that. All she could focus on was the words recently whispered in her ear: I will see you here in twenty years time my dear, by then you'll learn.
She auditioned and easily got the position she auditioned for. Her life from then on was quite easy, and rather dull. She realized too late in life that she had stopped being a person and simply became the music she played. People didn't love her, her thoughts or opinions. They weren't concerned with her likes or dislikes - they just wanted more and more music. Then one day she looked around her and realized she hadn't been home in 30 years. Her momma had passed, and the house sold. Her childhood friends had all moved forward in their lives with children and friends and love. The promise of the great life that music was meant to provide her was quite a false promise. Too much of her time had been devoted to the art of music, and not enough to developing any other facets of life for any promise to be able to be fulfilled. She with her slender fingers she placed her clothes in her suitcase. She left behind all of her fine furnishings, she couldn't look at them anymore, they reminded her of her loneliness. When it was time she found herself back on the train platform - she exited the train and just barely got a glimpse of her reflection in the train window before the train pulled away. It was the same face she saw all those forgotten years ago.
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Is the future preconceived or does it change very frequently? Answer the question by writing a story.
Violin:
She stood on the platform waiting for the 9:00 train to the city to come. She had an audition with the philharmonic that afternoon, an audition she had been working her whole life for: lead violin. Her young slender fingers gripped the wooden handle of her violin case. Her other hand had an elegant grip on her bag slung snugly on her shoulder. So engrossed in her own feelings of anxiety and deep in thought on how to dampen those feelings, she didn't notice as the woman with the wrinkled face and withered body approached her. Then all of a sudden an icy hand was on her shoulder and a wrinkled mouth whispered in her ear, a slight squeeze on the shoulder - then as the next train rushed in, the woman seemed to vanish in the vapor of the train. She didn't think much about her audition after that. All she could focus on was the words recently whispered in her ear: I will see you here in twenty years time my dear, by then you'll learn.
She auditioned and easily got the position she auditioned for. Her life from then on was quite easy, and rather dull. She realized too late in life that she had stopped being a person and simply became the music she played. People didn't love her, her thoughts or opinions. They weren't concerned with her likes or dislikes - they just wanted more and more music. Then one day she looked around her and realized she hadn't been home in 30 years. Her momma had passed, and the house sold. Her childhood friends had all moved forward in their lives with children and friends and love. The promise of the great life that music was meant to provide her was quite a false promise. Too much of her time had been devoted to the art of music, and not enough to developing any other facets of life for any promise to be able to be fulfilled. She with her slender fingers she placed her clothes in her suitcase. She left behind all of her fine furnishings, she couldn't look at them anymore, they reminded her of her loneliness. When it was time she found herself back on the train platform - she exited the train and just barely got a glimpse of her reflection in the train window before the train pulled away. It was the same face she saw all those forgotten years ago.
© All Rights Reserved
