30 Seconds of Music…45 Seconds of Writing

The second creative writing exercise I had to do for my script and prose class was as the title suggests. We listen to 30 seconds of music then have 45 seconds to write something, anything, as long as it isn’t a description of the piece.

Most of the stuff written was like “folk party in the country with a massive fire, people dancing, flowers entangled in hair, barefeet” But the fifth piece we heard was the softest, sweetest violin solo. I instantly knew it was a love letter…just not a conventional love letter. I’ll put a // where my 45 seconds were up, but of course I kept writing. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

I feel my bow sliding softly against my strings. He caresses me between his neck and chin, holding my hand tightly as if he never wants to let me go. Together we can sing. without him I am silent.//

He pulls me out of my velvet lined bed, I feel cold without the warm red padding. As his hands brush against my curves I come alive.

His hair is a little too long, his stubble a little too rough, he slouches a little too much. He does not fit.

The rest of the orchestra sit in their little rows, in their little tuxes and dresses, in their little lives. My player tries to blend in but his clothes don’t sit right. He looks incongruous in a tux, a mismatched puzzle piece. 

And yet when his calloused fingers pick up my bow they become delicate and light. I sit on his broad shoulder nuzzling in to his strong jaw.

His head tilts towards me, as if he is leaning in for a kiss but then he makes me sing arias of beauty, symphonies of joy or soft sweet solos of unending sadness. 

At the end of each session he puts me back, into my velvet lined tomb. Shutting the lid down tight. Leaving me alone in the darkness, desperately awaiting to once again to see the light, feel his touch and sing once again. 

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