The Violin That Started it All

Part 1) Chapter One

            I arrived at the park: Miles Square Park. It was a pretty large park, with lots of grass and many trees. The ground was never flat. There were many various hills, and a narrow river ran throughout the park. It all ended at a very large lake that inhabited both ducks and swans. A playground sat in the middle of the park, and there were many benches set around, and many wooden tables, benches, and barbeques for others if they wanted to host a party here. A light tan sidewalk wound all throughout the park, where people jogged, bicycled, scootered, skateboarded, hiked, et cetera. It was such a beautiful park. But, there was this one place I always hung out at.

            It was a little tree all the way in the corner of the park. I was never used to people praising me, so I never liked to play my violin in front of others. It was kind of awkward for me, but that was how I was. I also loved the little tree; it reminded me of…me. It was so frail and weak like it could snap at any moment, yet it still continued to grow. It was a strong tree, at heart…if trees…had hearts.

            I carefully sat down, muttering under my breath once more because the pain relieving medicine wore off and the pain came back. I set my black violin case down next to me, and unzipped it all the way, revealing my beautifully polished black violin. I would describe it, but I’m not sure you guys would know the parts of the violin, so I won’t. It’d sound as if I were talking some other language other than English.

            I took out the bow, and ran the horsestring of the bow on the strings of my violin, creating a sound that I’ve been in love with for so long. I started to play the violin after my mother died. She was in love with the piano and the violin, but I favored the violin more. Bianca favored the piano more. So, my mother gave us little lessons here and there, but it was for fun. We were never serious about playing. But, when my mother and Bianca died, I started to play the violin. It was just a memory about my mother, so I played the violin.

Since it reminded me of my mother and Bianca so much, and could only play sad and depressing songs. I played them at the top of my head. I would think of one note on the violin, and then another one would play in my head, and so on, until it created a beautiful piece of music. That’s how I played the violin in my free time. I loved it, and it was probably the only thing that could’ve ever made me smile.

I soon played. It was a deep, rich melody. Not as deep and low as the cello, but to me it was just right. The notes flowed together like Beethoven conducted it, though not as good and professional as him. I moved my arm in a rhythmic patter, back and forth, back and forth. I hoped no one was watching me; I’d feel pretty self-conscience.

I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes. It happened all the time, because the memories that took place between Bianca, my mother, and me played throughout my head, and closing my eyes made it clearer, more real. 

The last time I ever saw them was when I was ten, back in Maine. It was a cloudy day, but no really bad weather. My father was keeping me at home, while my mother and Bianca went out to go shopping together. I was watching television when my father received a phone call. He threw me into the car afterwards (literally), and he drove us straight to the hospital. It was that day when my mother passed away, and the day after Bianca passed away. Mother had been trying to protect Bianca, so she received the most damaged to her body. But, if you haven’t seen a truck, trucks are pretty big. And, this one was a delivery truck for some company. So, Bianca passed as well, but a little later than my mother. My father was so furious and enraged that day, I was just depressed and sorrowful. I cried my eyes out in the hospital, in the car, and at home. Tears ran tracks down my face as I attended their funeral. My eyes twinkled with tears as we packed and moved to New York. I still remember the day my mother and Bianca died. I would play them their own song that I wrote and memorized myself, in honor for them. January twenty-third was my mother’s death, and January twenty-fourth was Bianca’s death. Sometimes, I hated to think about their deaths so much, because it hurt my heart so much, and I would cry my eyes out for hours. Mostly whenever it happened at home, I would try to be as silent as I can, so my father wouldn’t burst into the room and tell me to shut up. But, fate had their deaths happen, and I couldn’t do anything about the past anymore. It was just how life was.

I raised the bow off the thin strings of my violin gently and softly, so I didn’t do any damage to the strings, and someone’s voice startled me so much, I almost jumped.

“That was such beautiful music you just played, by the way.”

I abruptly stood up and whipped my body around at someone I would never expect to approach me: Percy Jackson, the person that I was crushing on. He had a plain, navy blue V-neck on, and dark gray jeans. He wore navy blue Vans to match his navy blue shirt, and his stunning emerald green eyes were staring right at me. His black windswept hair was as perfect as ever, and he was smiling so kindly at me, I could’ve sworn it was directed at someone behind me. But, I knew no one was behind me without even checking, because I was all the way in the corner of the park, where no one ever went. He even praised me, which was something I rarely ever received. I wasn’t used to praise, like I said before, which was why I was all the way in the back of the park, so no one could hear me play. So, why was Percy Jackson here?

Well, this could not turn out any good.