Splinters

• Hanna-Jane Eberstein, Grade 6, Mt Nelson Primary School
• Short Story
• 2018

2nd in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

Me and my violin. It had always been us, just us and no one else until it happened…
The warm coastal air swept through the open attic window into my room, where a sound as sweet as honey licked the walls. The violin’s comforting music like a light in the dark. That’s when she appeared…the woman made of music. She was beautiful. Her eyes were ebony brown, a moony clarinet melody dancing in the breeze. Her hair like the strings of instruments worn from many years of love. Her voice was music, crafted to perfection, her practiced melodies lighter than a wish. She smiled, “I am Viola, the Spirit of Music, here to teach you the art of music.” Viola and I grew close and she gave me the confidence to step out into the bright light of the world.
I started small, one hour a day on the crowded streets. Playing and spreading joy, happiness and peace with slight flicks of my bow. Every day I gave laughter, tears and faraway smiles to the joyous community. In return, I woke up happier, each morning happier and ready to start the day. The atmosphere created a haven of kindness in the small town. But I knew that I must change one small thought, one small being and one small town before I could take on the world. ‘Crunch, crunch, crunch,’ a teenager’s footsteps echoed off the pastel buildings. I glanced up and saw a boy; fingers tapping rhythmically upon his thigh. A hurt angry expression played across his face portraying the thoughts whirring around his head, “You’re rubbish.” “Can’t you be like us?” “Play, scaredy cat!” All the torture of the violin lessons! A livid sneer played across the stranger’s face, his eyes shone daggers in outrage, and his fist roughly seized my cherished violin out of my playing fingers.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I challenged.
“There is no place for music in this world,” and with that he brutally slammed my one treasured possession into the hard, dusty road. His cruel, empty-hearted footsteps slowly stalked away.
I slumped heavily against a building; face glistened with tears and eyes staring desolately at a sandstone wall. My strength, happiness and hope evaporated like a puddle in the sun. But then a tune appeared; circling around in my head.
“Viola!?” Hope shot up my veins as the music twirled. “No, it can’t be, my violin’s broken,” I sighed despondently. The music kept spiralling, spinning, growing ever louder.
“I am inside you. I am you. Music is you. You have a gift, Melody, you don’t need an instrument to help the world. Spread joy to the cruellest of hearts and open them up to the world, give them happiness when no-one else can. That is music’s power. Something that no-one else can harness.”