The Darlings

The violin player

My travels bring me to a small club in which my stomach growled upon entering.

This club was something I wasn't used to seeing. Instead of the raging lights of a night club or the snobby demeanor of a supper club, it was reserved and underground. People sat around playing chess and sipped coffees with fancy names. The girl behind the counter had Cotton candy blue hair. I ordered a chocolate chip bagel with a caramel mocha and sat down on one of the sofas that looked fresh out of the 70's. The music in the background was something I only heard in films and nowhere else.

I had settled down after a while and began to feel a little more comfortable in the new place when a young woman walked up to a small stage in the back of the café. She carried with her a violin case which she soon set down and opened.

I don't know what I was expecting, maybe a classic song everyone knew or some cover of a popular song but what came from her was pure wordless poetry. Her eyes shut and she felt the music along with everyone else there. People stopped whatever they were doing and turned to watch her with transfixed expressions.

When she was done, there was a silence that filled the café. One that practically screamed the thoughts of the people around you. One that you didn't even realize was actual silence because it was so loud.

She bowed once before stepping off the stage.

Before I could really stop myself I rushed up to her. I began gushing on and on about what I was doing and eventually asked if I could get her picture. When she didn't answer, I was slightly scared she'd refuse.

She looked me up and down and sat at a table and gesture for me to sit across from her.

I obeyed.

She pulled out and notebook from her violin case and began to write. Her fingers glided over the paper with the same grace they did when she played.

After a few moments of her writing she pushed it in my direction.

I lost my voice when I was young in a sickness that also took my younger sister. I cannot speak anymore but I let the violin speak for me. It's my voice, my muse, and my soul. I think what you are doing is very interesting and I encourage you to continue your journey. I agree. The world is full of beautiful people and I'm honored to know that you place me among the darlings. I will allow you to put me in with your exhibit.

I asked her if I could keep the page and she nodded. My excitement grew as she also agreed to play another song. As she got into the climax of the song, I placed myself in front of the stage and took her picture.

Looking back at it now, you can hear her voice through the picture. Sad, soulful, and beautiful.