(Author's note: I know that an aria is not a piece played in the violin. It is rather a solo sung by a singer. I used it because "musical piece" was a) too long and b) less attractive. If you're wondering what all the words I use come from, they're from the thesaurus. Lastly, you might want to know that this is not normally my writing style. I write hillarious works of awesomness, not dreadful, soulful stuff. If you liked this, too bad, this is the only one you'll find. Or not. :3)
The Violinist
a quite short story by Bene Sanchez
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Part I
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Then, he heard it. Music, enchanting music was echoing hauntingly throughout the church.
It seemed to have come out of nowhere, like from darkness, bliss and light carve themselves out.
It was quite wistful, reminiscent of lazy summer afternoons, where gentle zephyrs kiss your skin.
The melody was so captivating, it was so hushed, yet blazing and forte.
He obviously wanted to discover the origin of the music.
Searching throughout the halls, the boy was tenacious on finding it.
The chapel seemed to be empty, yet filled with the sound. He crossed back and forth, without a clue where it was coming from. As if the walls were strategically laid to prevent someone from finding the root of echoes.
In the midst of his searching, he bumped into a marble staircase, which he could have sworn was never there before. He crossed the entire building, and triple-checked all the halls, but there was never a staircase.
But the quite interesting thing about these exquisite steps was, lo and behold, he had finally found the source of the music; the upper floor.
Then again, he looked through the other regular staircases of the building, but there was no music!
Intrigued, he took his first step on the stairs.
As he climbed, the music grew louder. A powerful crescendo was working through its way in the area.
He was moved powerfully by the music, yet entirely humbled by it.
Finally, he reached the end of the marble steps.
He finally found the pioneer of the music; it was a girl.
She wielded a violin, well crafted in both tone and beauty. The sleek, dark beast seemed like it was roaring notes of sizzling passion and beauty. But it could not compare to the beauty of the musician herself.
Dazzing, was an understatement. Her hair was hazel, tied craftily back into a complex ponytail. She was wearing simple, white linen robes, the sleeves folded back. Yet there was something about her, which left your jaw dropped.
Her quick, nimble fingers danced rapidly on the spruce neck of the violin, in perfect coordination with her right arm’s powerful bowing against the metallic strings. As if two rotating planets clashed against each other in a dance of the stars.
Her violet eyes were gleaming with hope and exhilaration, feeling into the song. It was amazing since she had no piece, it was either something she had memorized, or pure spontaneity.
But the thing that was truly tantalizing about her was the energy she possessed.
No, it was not the energy, it was the way she exhibited the energy.
She was twirling and spinning, in fact doing a pirouette! Her feet darted about, as her whole body moved with fervor as she played.
The boy of course, was left captivated by the magnificent rendition of the music. On one of the pews, he sat, as he watched her dance.
