Post by luka on Dec 29, 2011 17:25:19 GMT -5
This is for all you non-arty people, be it short stories, poems or video's of music you have done!
I'll start, I myself am a poet so all my posts will be poetry or short stories ;D
Ice blue eyes closed leaving pitch black lashes to fall against alabaster skin, she could hear it still, that gentle lullaby which had sent her to sleep since birth, that mournful melody that until recently had been her one companion at night, she had never learnt where it had come from and now she never would, a fact that tore at her from the inside out; she wanted to know more, she needed to know who it was that played that song and why it was so sad…yet all she knew was that each night, at the same moment the clock struck twelve; her room would be filled with the sound of a lone violin playing the most sombre tune ever heard by human ears, and each night she would be reduced to tears. Try as she might she could never forget the notes she heard, no matter what music she listened to nothing drove away the grief she felt when she heard a violin being played alone...but though it broke her heart to hear those sounds it hurt her far more that now she would have to say goodbye, her family was moving and she was going with them. No longer would she hear those notes so sweet, no longer would she be sung to sleep by the phantom violinist; never again would she feel at peace.
“I guess this is farewell.” A voice as sweet as honey fell past her lips as she once more opened her eyes and took a last look at the room which had been her home these last twenty years. The room that had once been full of nick-knacks, stuff she had collected over the years and a few old toys, now stood completely empty. Pink painted walls that had at one time been covered in paintings and posters were now bare and barren, everything had been packed away that morning, nothing was left to remind her of how she and the room had grown together, it was as empty as she felt.
“I will miss you, my invisible friend.” With these last words the girl turned on her heel and walked out of the room for the last time…if only she had looked back, if only she had stayed a little longer; she would have seen him, standing at the window, violin in hand and tears streaming down his face. Her Phantom violinist had come to wish her goodbye…he had come to tell her he loved her, yet not once did she look back…he died then and there, a forgotten memory of a time when music brought people together and tore them apart, a ghost that would forever haunt the girl he had wished could be his.
I'll start, I myself am a poet so all my posts will be poetry or short stories ;D
The Nightingales song.
Ice blue eyes closed leaving pitch black lashes to fall against alabaster skin, she could hear it still, that gentle lullaby which had sent her to sleep since birth, that mournful melody that until recently had been her one companion at night, she had never learnt where it had come from and now she never would, a fact that tore at her from the inside out; she wanted to know more, she needed to know who it was that played that song and why it was so sad…yet all she knew was that each night, at the same moment the clock struck twelve; her room would be filled with the sound of a lone violin playing the most sombre tune ever heard by human ears, and each night she would be reduced to tears. Try as she might she could never forget the notes she heard, no matter what music she listened to nothing drove away the grief she felt when she heard a violin being played alone...but though it broke her heart to hear those sounds it hurt her far more that now she would have to say goodbye, her family was moving and she was going with them. No longer would she hear those notes so sweet, no longer would she be sung to sleep by the phantom violinist; never again would she feel at peace.
“I guess this is farewell.” A voice as sweet as honey fell past her lips as she once more opened her eyes and took a last look at the room which had been her home these last twenty years. The room that had once been full of nick-knacks, stuff she had collected over the years and a few old toys, now stood completely empty. Pink painted walls that had at one time been covered in paintings and posters were now bare and barren, everything had been packed away that morning, nothing was left to remind her of how she and the room had grown together, it was as empty as she felt.
“I will miss you, my invisible friend.” With these last words the girl turned on her heel and walked out of the room for the last time…if only she had looked back, if only she had stayed a little longer; she would have seen him, standing at the window, violin in hand and tears streaming down his face. Her Phantom violinist had come to wish her goodbye…he had come to tell her he loved her, yet not once did she look back…he died then and there, a forgotten memory of a time when music brought people together and tore them apart, a ghost that would forever haunt the girl he had wished could be his.
