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The Violinist

This is the story of a girl named Laura, the shy girl shaking in the middle of the stage, being frightened by the large audience of teachers, parents, and students in front of her. Her shaky body can barely keep the bow and wooden instrument from falling out of her hands. It seems like she can barely speak at all for herself, as if the audience sucked the voice from her lips. Finally, her fragile lips speak.
“Umm… hello, everyone,” she speaks into the microphone before a loud shriek coming from the amp interrupts her, “My name is Laura… and tonight, umm, I’ll be playing for you a… a song, that I’m sure you would like.”
She steps back into silence, then mutters under her breath, as all eyes are staring at her now, even my own eyes. Her footsteps can be heard in the theatre. A man silently comes onto the stage and takes away the microphone into the backstage. Quiet again. The fragile girl seems like she is going to break into tears now. But she looks at me, and with a nod, she regains her confidence. She picks up her bow and puts it close to her wooden instrument, and closes her eyes.
She does one soft stroke against the violin, and a small, whiny note can be heard throughout the crowd. The high pitch noise was soon brought to justice with a low, soothing note that echoed across the building. Although these notes were very different, they were soon followed by a collaboration of notes, joining together to create music.
And what a collaboration it was, note after note bringing powerful music across the room, bring joy and melancholy as if they were meant to be together to become beautiful sounds. The music lingered throughout the crowd as if a canister of gas spread throughout the crowd, keeping close to the ground, and soon being inhaled by each member of the audience. It was truly beautiful. Laura was creating a waterfall or wonderful sounds, being as beautiful as they are, pouring out of the violin as the bow strikes against it. And as I look from the violin to Laura, I could see a smile on her face. It was a smile of gratitude, one of ease and pleasure, for she has kept this in herself for so long and hasn’t been able to show the rest of the world what she was hiding. For she is in front of her own peers, her teachers, the ones who know her day by day, week by week, 180 days year round. She wasn’t afraid anymore, or crowded with fear, but instead relaxed and calm. She was at peace within herself.
At long last, Laura was done with her music. And when the beautiful song was over, the music was followed by a roaring noise of applause from the audience. It was a different type of music to Laura’s ears. And then she smiled wide; oh she did indeed smiled wide. Then she looked at me, with that big smile, and I smiled too; however, I smiled the smile of her father.This is the story of a girl named Laura, the shy girl shaking in the middle of the stage, being frightened by the large audience of teachers, parents, and students in front of her. Her shaky body can barely keep the bow and wooden instrument from falling out of her hands. It seems like she can barely speak at all for herself, as if the audience sucked the voice from her lips. Finally, her fragile lips speak.

“Umm… hello, everyone,” she speaks into the microphone before a loud shriek coming from the amp interrupts her, “My name is Laura… and tonight, umm, I’ll be playing for you a… a song, that I’m sure you would like.”
She steps back into silence, then mutters under her breath, as all eyes are staring at her now, even my own eyes. Her footsteps can be heard in the theatre. A man silently comes onto the stage and takes away the microphone into the backstage. Quiet again. The fragile girl seems like she is going to break into tears now. But she looks at me, and with a nod, she regains her confidence. She picks up her bow and puts it close to her wooden instrument, and closes her eyes.
She does one soft stroke against the violin, and a small, whiny note can be heard throughout the crowd. The high pitch noise was soon brought to justice with a low, soothing note that echoed across the building. Although these notes were very different, they were soon followed by a collaboration of notes, joining together to create music.
And what a collaboration it was, note after note bringing powerful music across the room, bring joy and melancholy as if they were meant to be together to become beautiful sounds. The music lingered throughout the crowd as if a canister of gas spread throughout the crowd, keeping close to the ground, and soon being inhaled by each member of the audience. It was truly beautiful. Laura was creating a waterfall or wonderful sounds, being as beautiful as they are, pouring out of the violin as the bow strikes against it. And as I look from the violin to Laura, I could see a smile on her face. It was a smile of gratitude, one of ease and pleasure, for she has kept this in herself for so long and hasn’t been able to show the rest of the world what she was hiding. For she is in front of her own peers, her teachers, the ones who know her day by day, week by week, 180 days year round. She wasn’t afraid anymore, or crowded with fear, but instead relaxed and calm. She was at peace within herself.
At long last, Laura was done with her music. And when the beautiful song was over, the music was followed by a roaring noise of applause from the audience. It was a different type of music to Laura’s ears. And then she smiled wide; oh she did indeed smiled wide. Then she looked at me, with that big smile, and I smiled too; however, I smiled the smile of her father.




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