Friday Fictioneers – the Cellist

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PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

The cello nestled between her legs, comfortable as an old lover. But the bow was heavy and refused her command. A strangled note shivered the air.

All gone. The whole village.

She heard their screaming in the lone note, the beat of fists against the bolted door, the choking as smoke filled the hall. When she returned, only ash and charred bone remained.

Let my music be their revenge! The strings vibrated. The sun moved. Motes of light danced a gavotte – perhaps an illusion created by her tears, but she sensed Mama and Papa. The audience drew in a breath.

 

Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here.

82 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – the Cellist

      1. A small spat between Highland clans in Scotland, nothing that gets taught in school. The McLeods rowed up the coast one Sunday while their rivals were in church, barred the doors and then fired the building

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  1. the bow was heavy and refused her command
    I love this line. I’m someone who doesn’t play anything, but I imagine bows as very lightweight. So that particular comparison of bow and heavy says a lot. The whole piece is beautiful.

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  2. Neil, this was very moving and so haunting.
    This is my first week at Friday Fictioneers. I took up the violin 4 years ago initially just to help my daughter along but I came to love it…and experience great initial frustration!! I wrote something about my playing sounding like a screeching cockatoo. Bows can be very uncooperative and they feel emotion and nerves. Very responsive. So, I related to the details of your piece as well.
    xx Rowena

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  3. Superb writing as usual Neil. I initially looked too deep into it and tried to find something that was not there. I now read it with fresh eyes. Great writing.

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  4. The disadvantage of reading these stories late is that everyone has already said what you wanted to say. So I will just say I agree with all the comments, especially Bjorn’s that music born of pain is even more beautiful.

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