Today I’d like to share a piece
of flash fiction with you that I wrote several months ago. It’s not perfect, but I’d enjoy hearing your impressions.
Sensations of Music
The music swells within me, though the stage itself is silent. My bow poised over the violin, I wait. The applause greeting our conductor reaches its crescendo and then dies down as people settle in, anticipation making many of them lean forward in their seats. I take a deep breath, keeping an eye on Monsieur Lemouis as he readies himself. He raises his hands; my whole body tenses. Then he smiles and nods. I lower the bow and sound our first, beautiful, sustained note.
As the other strings join in, the melody washes over me, and I gently bob and sway as I run the bow over the humming strings of the violin. I feel as if I am dancing or flying. This is my moment, when I escape the bounds of gravity and reach for Heaven. I am weightless. Each note builds within me, sweeps through the instrument, and soars into the auditorium. When I open my eyes, I see the rapture on the faces of the audience, a reflection of the joy I am feeling. They appreciate the music, but I wonder: do they understand it the way I do? Are their hearts intertwined with the strings the way mine is? Does the same breathlessness pulsate through them that is making its way through me? But then, perhaps that is why they are here.
As our performance comes to a close, I keep my eyes closed for a moment, letting the music drain away softly. It dances away on the air, leaving a blissful smile on my face. Then I glance around the stage, almost surprised to see the other performers. Our music was so woven together that I forgot I was not the only one there. Many of them appear as astonished as I feel. The audience explodes with applause, and we stand, smiling at each other and at the crowd. This is the pinnacle of all our practice and hard work. Opening night has been an enormous success.
They continue to clap and then someone shouts, “Encore!” Others join in the call for more. I take a step back, stunned, and glance at the others. Our lead cellist shrugs and gives me a grin. So, I straighten and step forward, holding my violin and bow toward the crowd in a gesture of acquiescence. They quiet down. Then I feel the rush of color inside again and place the violin under my chin. I begin to sway gently and play a bright little progression, smiling at the audience. Behind me, the percussionist picks up the beat and the other strings join in, adding depth and rhythm. My smile widens. This is completely unrehearsed, but it is beautiful. Without a hitch, they follow my lead, weaving around my melody and enveloping the room once again with song. After about a minute, I wind it down and stop. The crowd fills the sudden silence with a stunning show of applause. I bow along with the others and feel the happiness bubble up inside of me. I am beaming.
Then I wake up.
The dream fades, but I’m sure that I can still hear the faint sound of a violin wafting its way around my room. Sighing, I sit up and glance over at my instrument, silently waiting in its case by the closet. It fairly begs me to play it, as if it too was dreaming of success. I toss the covers aside and pad over to the violin. Kneeling beside it, I open the case. This is a beautiful instrument, meant to make the music I was imagining.
One day that dream will come true.
Lessons start tomorrow.