The Magic of Music

The Magic of Music

  • WpView
    Reads 20
  • WpVote
    Votes 0
  • WpPart
    Parts 4
WpMetadataReadOngoing16m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Feb 7, 2019
I scrambled over to my flute, picking up the broken pieces and sobbing. "Mom got this for me! This was the only thing I had left of her!" "So, what?! Get over her! She's gone! She was an idiot for leaving. She never loved you!" Suddenly, the front door slammed shut, and the bar girl was gone. "Hey!! Come back!" he suddenly turned on me, eyes burning with rage. His tall figure towering over my cowering, small body. "You made her leave! You're a stupid girl!" He had grabbed his vodka bottle off the coffee table and flung it at my head. I remember scrambling out of the way just in time, picking up my broken flute and dashing up the stairs, still sobbing. My flashback disappeared suddenly, leaving me in my room with a tear rolling slowly down my cheek still staring at the dusty black case. The instrument inside more than a broken device. It symbolized a broken heart.
All Rights Reserved
#70
mb
WpChevronRight
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Unsteady (COMPLETED)
  • The Missing Element  book II
  • Octavia Lycan: A Tribrid Story
  • He's My Mate
  • Is it too late to say Sorry?
  • I will protect you
  • Not Your Luna (Formerly His Rogue Luna)
  • Broken Beyond Repair
  • Someone Willing to Stay
  • Broken and Bruised

The story of a girl who grows up with an alcoholic for a father, only to marry an alcoholic for a husband. ~~~~~ The walk to the school would be fifteen minutes, on a good day. Today, however, I managed to get there in seven. As soon as I walked onto the property, I could hear the nonsense ramblings spewing from my husband's mouth. "He's my son! You are holding him hostage!" He yells - his words slurring together, almost making them unintelligible. Luckily for me, I have heard him like this many, many times throughout my life and can understand him clearly. "Michael?" I call out to him and he turns his head slowly in my direction. He stumbles a little as he walks towards me, placing a hand on my left shoulder. "Ella? Love, they won't give me our son. I got here on time like you told me. I remembered! See! I got here, but they won't give him to me. They are keeping him away from me." He turns, his face getting angry. "Give me back my son, you bastards!" "Michael, that's enough." I say firmly, trying to make my hands stop shaking. "You're drunk. They couldn't give you Tyler like this. You aren't fit-" "Not fit? Not fit? I am capable of taking care of our son, Ella." He spits, literally, into my face. ~~~~~ This story contains mature themes, sensitive topics and coarse language. Reader discretion is advised.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines