Regrets
Regrets
WC (Henry/Henry)
#100
3/100 (Numero Trois)
The door to your room was open and your violin, along with scattered pieces of music lay strewed across the grainy floor. Light filtered through the window, through the thin striped cotton curtains, painting the room with a soft rosy glow. I stepped gingerly towards the violin and bent down to pick it up. Dust clung to the strings like a child would to its mother. How long has it been since the accident? You sat on your bed, back to the door, with the blanket over your head, shading your face. I didn't need to see your tears to feel them. I cradled the violin closer to my chest and I could feel through the wood, the vibrations of forgotten notes, sweet and high, low and humming. "You're really giving up the violin?" The blanket shook but the room was quiet, save for our breathing and the whispers of the curtains brushing against the whitewashed walls. The silence was like a thorn in my side and I was desperate to get rid of it. "Henry! Answer me goddamit!" You didn't reply, only pulled the blanket tighter across your body then laid on your side, still shaking. No words. My heart, previously swelled with hopefulness, shattered into a million pieces. Anger quickly filled the empty space in my body and I glared at the violin, as if my anger would melt the glossy wood. I held the violin as far away as possible from me, treating it as if it were a contagious disease. A disease of the heart. Slowly, one by one, my fingers uncurled, their grip on the elaborately carved scroll loosening. I let go. The violin sighed and fell to the floor with a dull thud. Suddenly music from nowhere screamed loudly into my ears, but I forced myself to ignore it. I stared dizzily, with blurry eyes, at the mess of wood littering the floor. The violin, your once most precious possession now lay cracked and damaged beyond repair on the floor. Wave after wave of remorse washed over me. I felt tired now. Lifeless. I finally tore my gaze away and looked at the blanket on the bed. The blanket was still.
Oh ick. Have you ever saw so many fragments in your whole life?
-headdesk-
I seriously have to work on my writing.
I need to be more descriptive and stuff..
v_v
No one likes the sound of a violin hitting the floor.
In orchestra, we have had too many incidents involving instruments falling.
-shudder-