I realised the pain had stopped, I was dreaming, pleasantly drifting, music somewhere. Had it all been a dream?
When I first got the diagnosis I had joked with the other players of the string section, cellos always outlive their players. Mine certainly would, she was already three centuries old, how many had played her? Drifting, where was she now, my beautiful instrument?
Doctors give you a sentence, what they don’t say is that only half the sentence will be real living. I gave her back, I didn’t own her anyway; few musicians can afford to own the great instruments. They didn’t rush me, everyone was keeping up the pretence I was going to play again. The only positive to come from my untimely demise would be another player getting the chance to play her.
We’re going on stage, everyone’s tuning up. I can’t see, the others are leading me on. When did I lose my sight? It doesn’t matter, I know the concerto off by heart. I just wish I knew where we were. My arms aren’t working, how can I play without my hands? Am I still fixed to all those tubes and drips, still dreaming… I can’t open my eyes, I can’t wake up…
Everyone’s clapping. I can feel the audience, I’m close to the front of the stage. I can feel the breathing of the other string players… complete silence, I know I am in good hands. I sing the opening chords… they say the sound of the cello is the closest of any instrument to the human voice. I had a human voice, now I have a cello voice.
They say, who says, did I read it or just know it? They say when you die you become what you loved most.
Paul Jones is a brilliant young cellist; married to Emma Dexter they are the golden couple of the music world, but their lives are about to change forever when Emma finds out the devastating truth of who she really is.
Music, medicine and mystery are the themes of this novel.
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One thought on “Friday Flash Fiction 300 – Encore”
Real deep 🙂
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