Sunday, April 26, 2015

The violinist

A tale for Sunday's Whirligig where the given words are shade, stain, lace,
velour, purse, ink, diaphanous, clip, iridescent,weather, dissonant and mottled.


















I woke to the dissonant sound of a screeching violin. I told myself I was dreaming. Rarely did anybody pass my little shack in the woods. I opened my eyes. I wasn't dreaming; somebody was outside braving the cruelest winter weather I could recall. 

Wrapped in a blanket, I walked to the window and tugged open the velour drape. The inside of the glass was festooned with an iridescent lace pattern of ice shimmering in the early morning sun. I scraped some of it away leaving a mottled diaphanous film though which I could just make out the shape of a man sitting on a snow covered stump in the shade of a tree. I pushed open the window and watched as he tunelessly scraped the strings of a violin with a bow. He noticed me, stopped and looked at me with a menacing expression, his lips pursed, his brow furrowed.

He sat motionless for what seemed ages. I was transfixed by his glare. He dropped his instrument into the snow and produced a quill pen, and a sheet of parchment from a bag clipped to his waist.

I watched as he furiously scribbled, his hand a blur. He stopped then turned the parchment to face me; I was staring at a picture of myself, an agonised countenance on my face. Suddenly a gust of wind ripped it from his hand and I watched as it flew higher and higher, up and over the treetops. When I looked down he had gone. All that remained were his  footprints disappearing into the distance. 

I left my shack that morning never to return. I handed the keys to an agent and asked him to dispose of it for me.

There was something in the way the agent looked at me. His pursed lips and furrowed brow seemed chillingly familiar. And he bore an ink stain on his hand.

Picture: Part of Violinist Circular Study, Joseph Vassie

It's back to the April A-Z Challenge for me tomorrow. With just four letters and 1560 writers remaining we have reached W and I've written a poem for children called  If I was a Worm.

22 comments:

  1. Serenaded by a bad fiddle player and demented artist is not a good experience I should imagine. A novel way for real estate agents to evict unwanted tenants:)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It worked! Thanks for the words, they certainly got me thinking!

      Delete
  2. I love the narrative style of this Keith and the surprising end which was unexpected with our minds being set on ghosts!

    ReplyDelete
  3. ending did left me baffled, but then perhaps that was intended, nicely written

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was indeed intended! You can read into it whatever you like.

      Delete
  4. Great story, though I find the de luxe furnishings of your rustic shack rather hard to swallow!. :-) Did you do that sketch? It's brilliant.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. All the best shacks have velour drapes! I wish I could say I did the sketch - I loved it the moment I came across it.

      Delete
  5. Very visual and mysterious, leaves me wanting to know more.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Whoa! Now I need to wipe the chills off my arms. My kind of story. As I read toward the ending, I wondered if you knew the ending would take you there, that maybe you were like, "Wow, I didn't see that coming". Sometimes my stories do that, take me to an ending not first thought of. Great story!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Got it one! I had absolutely no idea where I was going with this until I was about two thirds of the way through!

      Delete
  7. Now this is curious..who is drawing who...who is pulling (or playing) the strings..me and Alice are happily pondering... ;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That is for you and Alice to decide! You two will probably see more than even I have in my piece!

      Delete
  8. Fantastic tale with the words interwoven beautifully.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I wonder where he went after giving up the shack?
    Great story, with a mysterious and unexpected end. Was the real estate agent REALLY the fiddler?
    Now I'm pondering this story with wondering thoughts.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I like how you used 'purse' - the whole of it fanciful, daring and with just enough hints. Well wordled.
    Thanks for stopping by Mrs. Mary Mack.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Bravo ... I really loved your story and the great surprise ending!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Enjoyed your style as always, Keith. Just wondering where did he go...your character?

    ReplyDelete