the final performance of a dead man

the end complete

The sounds of music come from hollowed body and silver strings, sounds of beauty, sounds of sadness. They tug at the emotions of man, force him to smile and spill tears. His lips curve up in a smile but his dark eyes tell a tale that is vastly different. His smile says he enjoys the somber sermon he plays for himself. His relaxed posture says he is at ease and focused. His hands say he is creating the melodies as he plays. To the untrained eye, he is happy to perform for himself and any others that wish to listen to this semi private concerto. As time continues and note after note is played, He becomes more at ease. His hands more fluid. His melodies becoming more and more expressive. The audience begins to experience the strife he feels and starts to weep. what was once a beautiful mesmerising aria was now a depressive, heart felt and funerary bolero that told more stories than Shakespeare, more paintings than van gogh, and more misery than Edgar Allan Poe. As this mournful performance comes to a close the nameless musician plays his final cadence, puts down his trade and bows. He speaks with a voice both soft and serious, as if he were lecturing a young child. "You my friends, now know my heart. What was to be a private affair you have taken part in and know the angst of a young man with nothing left to gain. Or to lose" he smiled sadly, and from his waist recovered a new tool. Placed to his temple, he says his final words, credited to another great musician. The man quotes and whispers "a tout le monde, a tout mes amie, je vous aime, je dois partir" there was a loud pop. A woman screamed. A man threw up. A child went wide eyed and cried into the bosom of his mother. The concert was finished, The solo played by a bullet and his skull.