The Boy & the Violin by D.H. Bridgegate (books to read now .TXT) 📖

his first try he gets three? Beginner’s luck. Only beginner’s luck. He didn’t eat them, no. Fact is he let them go, and they lived. I did the same with mine, dropping the aquatic creature back into the water. He nodded when he saw me repeat what he did, and gave a short grin before grabbing his violin.

He played once more. It was such a lovely tune, and the first person I thought about was my four-year old sister who loved violin music fondly.

“Wait here, I want you to meet my sister.” I dashed off, and he smiled, continuing his music ‘till I couldn’t hear anymore.

My sister never really wanted to be bothered. She was a bit moody, and very fussy. But that day, she was a nice, friendly girl. And as I held her in my arms, and put her down to the grass, she looked as sweet as she could when seeing my friend.

The boy gave a large smile to my younger sibling, taking her hand and walking her to a tree in which he would play a special song for her.

Cheerful and lively it was, my little sister clapping her hands together and following the dance of the boy. I watched with joy, my sister and my friend dancing with lively excitement and my sister singing whatever she thought matched with the tune he was playing. In all my life, I never saw my sister so hyper and happy. That boy truly had something special about him, and I still have not found out what.

Once the serenade was finished, he gave her a gentle kiss on her soft cheek and a flower upon her head. She hugged him and with a goodbye whispered, she left onto our house.

I felt so wonderful that my sister was treated so kindly, and I thanked the boy twice: first for being nice to my sister, and second for being a great friend. I told him that, and he seemed excited to hear. And then, again, my mother shouted, “Luca!”

Ooh, I hated when she did that, and by the look on my face I was pretty angry. The boy laughed, and walked off with a silent goodbye and played his violin down the stream. I stood there with a chuckle, as the music faded off into the woods.

Ah, our days only became happier and happier. I would visit him by his house, and vice versa, my parents were even fond of him. And he would play many more serenades for my sister, she even tried to learn herself how to play. I was as happy and content as I could and would be with such a friend in my life, but-but it wouldn’t go on forever.

On a late summer’s evening, we were playing with the trees and pretending to be many explorers of the world. But as our game was ending, he walked up to me giving me his violin. I didn’t know what to say, but with his hands guiding mine, he tried to teach me how to use it.

As I did, I failed. I didn’t know how to use the bow, or the violin itself. Even though he was instructing me, doing the movements of how to use the violin and he would move his arms and hands as he if he was holding one, I just did not understand. Suddenly but unsurprisingly, I pluck a string. I broke it, one of his strings that played music so gently and beautifully. My eyes watered and widened, and he looked at me with a grin, if he could have talk he would have said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“I-I-I’m so sorry.” I cried softly, with him giving me a pat on the shoulder. I handed it back to him, I think I did enough damage to the thing!

But he didn’t accept. No. In fact, to my surprise yet delight, he let me have it. I could keep it, at least by his gestures and face that giggled brightly. I couldn’t play it, but he knew I would learn someday.

“Oh thank you! Oh thank you!” was all I could utter, it was truly kind of him to give me his violin, his special instrument to me.

Then, he came fourth, and hugged me as tight as a person could. Tears slowly rolled off his cold yet soft cheeks, and still he smiled. At the time, I thought he was crying about giving up his violin, and I felt like a dirty rat for keeping it. But it wasn’t that at all….

I heard an nearly silent voice call out his name, which was so low I couldn’t hear it and I am still saddened about not knowing that boy‘s name.

He left, with a smile that I’ll never forget, and he slowly faded into the fog of the field. I looked down, and at the violin, which was now mine. I returned home, and all that night I played.

And how I played! Not good of course, but loud! I tried to be as good as my friend but was no where near his talent. As the evening hours passed, I played continuously with a grin on my face that was so large my sister thought my mouth was broken. She was a silly little girl at times.

That night slowly turned awful however, as I heard the troops march in the village, burning down houses, shooting, and terrible sounds that made me cover my head under the blankets and cuddle up to my dear sister who was crying at the noise. I nearly cried myself but somehow, I kept brave. Thank the lord for it, they never came to our place. But I felt, and still feel truly sorry for the homes that were victimized.

The next day unrevealed a wonderful sun that shined so peacefully on the ruins of certain buildings. The horrible smell of smoke was still in the air, and I was a little depressed that day. More than a little, I was depressed that day. Alas, I still was determined to play, if I could only find him. Where could that boy be? I thought with a positive vibe, Maybe he can teach me some more.

“Hey!” I called out for the boy in the open field, but no answer came, for he would always answer with a violin movement. “Hey!” I called again, this time walking towards the wooden fence that divided me and my friend. There was once a little cottage, where he lived in across the fence. It was a small little building, only could house about four. But there--there was nothing there. Ruins and the smoke was all that was left of it.

I walked mindlessly, jumping over the short fence and onto the ruins. Some small flames were still burning, and I saw no one there, if I did I certainly did not want to, for I am sure they were not alive. He-he was gone. No one was there. The boy was gone.

My tears were falling as rain would, and I slowly walked back as I stumbled upon damaged items. I climbed over the fence and ran back to my house, crying my heart completely out. The lost of Old Noble was terrible to me, but the lost of a dear friend was heart-breaking, never did I think such things could happen in this cruel old world. My parents often asked what was wrong with me, and I would tell them about school or my kite. But I think they knew, I think they knew.

Every day, at the same time we would play, I would, by a tree, the tree I first met him behind, play his violin. It sounded better, but nothing was like his performances. My little sister would come behind me, and listen as if she played it herself. And behind that tree, we would both look lost with mindless eyes. Those mindless, teary eyes saw what we could no longer…. the boy and the violin.
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Publication Date: 07-22-2012

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