Cello Him Home

Marcy leaned over from the edge of her seat, resting her arms on the railing. She loved the buzz of the the theatre filling with patrons and it thrilled her to imagine how it would feel should she be the artist all were there to watch.

She was Lyla Novacek, playing her Adagio-Moderato from Edward Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E Minor, convinced it would bring her long-lost son back into her arms. She was so into the beautiful music she nearly jumped out of her skin when the announcement boomed over the speakers:

“Bonsoir! Bienvenue au show de Francis Cabrel!”

It was a day of lollygagging and coming back to this image, deciding on which direction to take it. I am using the excuse that I am still a little ill from a cold so it was okay to remain in pyjamas all day. Maybe that is what permitted me to take the direction I did. Thank you Björn Rudberg for such a beautiful image. Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this fabulous group of writers week after week!

Click on Rochelle’s name for the rules and regs should you wish to participate. If not, click on the blue frog to read more interpretations of this lovely photograh.

Word Count: 100

Genre: Fiction

Musical Dreams

She closed her eyes as she listened to Yo-Yo Ma’s recording of Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 – Prelude. It never failed to bring a feeling of complete peace over her body. The cello was her favourite instrument in the orchestra. She could feel the melancholic, rich sound in the deepest part of her gut, her heart, her soul.

Why ever did she never learn to play? It was way too late now, she was convinced. No one in their right mind, wth no clue how to even read music, would think of taking up an instrument in her fifties? Would they?