The Violinist's Sheet Music

Wow guys, so this is my first try at a plot my crazy mind thought of. It's just like a rough start so please tell me what you think and I'll take any criticism! Thanks for reading and please comment! And vote if you like it!

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Prologue:



I can see it in the way he plucks his strings. I can hear as the music carries on. I can feel it when the notes reverberate against the walls.

There is an underlying sorrow behind his song.

He comes promptly every Saturday evening at seven. He strides in the music room, with an air of confidence. Every day he wears the same black pinstripe suit and purple white tie. A mess of black curls frame his face and hides his almond shaped eyes. He was young. Not like teenager young or anything but definitely in his late twenties; maybe early thirties.

He never says anything. He only sits in the chair, five times too small for him, and rests the violin under the crook of his neck. He takes a second to prepare himself. He licks his lips, and he sits up high in his seat; his back straight and his shoulders squared. And then he plays.

And each song he plays tells a story. Or at least, I make it. There’s one about a girl who loves a boy that doesn’t love her back. I know because the song starts out slow and sad. Each string telling a different part of the story. But as it crescendos, the girl gathers up the courage to tell him. And when she does, she’s rejected.

Then there’s another; a man taking care of his children all by himself. But he doesn’t have enough money. He never did. So he steals for them. And when he steals, he gets caught and he’s sent to jail. And his kids are forced to go to an orphanage.

All of his songs are sad. I wondered if he ever was trying to teach us a lesson. The world is a cold place and you should never expect anything good of it. That’s what all his songs showed.

When he was done, he would put his violin back in its case and leave. He would just leave. He never talked to any of us but that’s what made me interested in him. All the other kids were just too young to understand how beautiful his music was. But being 11, I had to talk to him. I just had to.

So one day I did. I smoothed down my hospital gown and ran after him. The pitter-patter of my feet on the corridor was echoed in the hall, and I could hear the nurses telling me to stop running, but I just ignored them. I had to speak to the man.

I could just make out his curly black mop over the rest of the people, and I pushed myself as he neared the door. Once I was close enough, I grabbed onto the back of his suit and pulled him back. I was exhausted by then, taking gasping breaths. I’ve been bed-ridden so long; I didn’t need to move around so much.

The violinist looked back at me and a spread of shock appeared onto his face. But maybe I was wrong, because when I looked back, it was replaced with a smile. One that didn’t seem to meet his eyes. There were two guards beside him and he waved them off.

As they walked off reluctantly a thought came to my mind. Why did he need guards to escort him here? But I quickly pushed that thought out, looking at him with a broad smile.

“You’re beautiful!” I exclaimed and when he made a face, I gasped, shaking my head. “No, not like that! You’re music! I mean your music! It’s just so...” I couldn’t find a word. It was so what?

I looked up at him for support and he smiled, ruffling my hair gently.

“Well I’m glad I’ve pleased somebody. It seems I’ve put the other kids to sleep with my ‘beautiful music’.” He glanced back at the guards and sighed, crouching down to my level. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Mm-hmm!” I nodded eagerly. This man was willing to tell me a secret already?

He breathed out a laugh and patted my head gently. “You may make your own music, but the instrument calls you. Don’t forget that, Elodie.” He tapped my nose before getting back up with a groan, waving for the guards to follow him. “Alright, alright take me away now...”

As I watched him leave, I could feel the heat spread onto my cheeks. I had finally talked to him. But I didn’t know his name! But he knew mine! How did he know my name? “Wait!” I called, waving my hands like an idiot. “Wait, I don’t know your name!”

He turned back around at me and gave me a sly grin. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll see you later.” He winked at me before disappearing behind the guards.

But he had lied that day. I never did see him later. For two weeks, the musical therapy was postponed and then when they brought it back, I was extremely excited. But the man there wasn’t the guy from before. He was nothing like him. He played happy, upbeat songs that made the kids giggle and he even included them along with it too.

I’d been cooped up in a hospital for two years and he’d always been the highlight of my day. And when he was gone, the hospital was suddenly a dark place again, like when I first got here.

And whether it was wrong or not, he was my first real crush.