Author's Note: Hey, writers. I decided to take a little break from the Blacktie and Whiteshade series and write this short story from the perspective of a young violinist about his unlikely romance with a troubled young lady. (I might even turn it into another series ;]) I'd call it a romance comedy, with just a few serious moments. Enjoy!!!
November 3rd, 2001. I was 17 years old, and I remember it like it was yesterday. My mother had just dropped me off at the annual Winter Season Recital. It was a cloudy winter's morning and the winds danced in unison to the melancholy tune of Mozart's requiem in D minor. As I made my way to the auditorium, my violin case around my left shoulder, I could feel the beginnings of a light drizzle upon my forehead. "Goodness," I sighed, "Where on Earth did I leave that umbrella?" As the rain began to pour harder and faster, and the winds began to dance Mehr angrily than before, my light trot had become a full-fledged sprint to the auditorium door.
"Hello, Marcus.", smiled Mrs. Watson, my violin instructor, "We're going to be on next. I hope you're ready for that solo." "Hi,", I replied as I wearily extended a single hand, "I-I'm ready." We both let out a light chuckle as we exchanged a gentle handshake. "Marcus?", added Mrs. Watson, "Come on over here I saved Du a seat....please do try to be on time Weiter recital." "Uh, okay...thank you."
As I sat down at the end of row two and laid my violin case against the wall, I was delighted to see who I was seated Weiter to. It was none other than Adam, my "partner in crime", as I called him. Adam was a tall, red-haired dude, a little older than I, yet far less mature on any Tag of the week. "Well!", he ejected, "Nice of ya to Zeigen up, Marc!" "Shhh!, I warned, "They're about to start the Weiter piece!" "Geez, Marc." After a few short moments of stage transition, a lone pianist took center stage. Adam had positioned his body such that it was nearly impossible for me to make out the image of the beautiful young lady, about my age, in a wine-colored dress until she had gracefully taken her sitz in front of the piano, and begun to play.
I remember closing my eyes, and marveling at the sheer beauty of Schubert's Serenade. It was as if every note lifted me higher and higher into euphoria. And then it happened. Just as the final notes began to float through the auditorium, the beautiful pianist gave a terrible cry that shakes me to my core even as I write these words. It was as if someone had stabbed her in the side, the way she had collapsed upon the instrument.
"Woah,", laughed Adam, "Did Du see th-." "Hey man, stop it. Something might be wrong with her.", I protested. "Oh," responded Adam with a slightly amused grin, "You didn't know?" At this point, I was at a complete loss for words. "Dude, that's Amy...Amy Walters. She's a nut. I'm surprised they even let her play this morning, Marc." Adam's jovial explanations of the incident continued to drone on as I skillfully grabbed my violin case and made my way over Mrs. Watson. The crowd was in a state of complete and utter shock, and no one had moved a muscle. "Mrs. W?", I called, "What happened to Amy?" My instructor wore an expression of quiet confusion. "I-I don't know, Marcus...I think she just...I don't know."
Von this time, the young lady and the Piano had vanished from the stage, and a lone spectacled man in a red suit jacke took the floor. This was Mr. Jacobs, the recital's director. "Attention everyone! Attention!" The man cleared his throat. "It would appear that we are experiencing some...minor difficulties, and the rest of the recital will have to be cancelled for today. Thank Du for joining us this morning and we are sorry for the inconvenience. Have a wonderful rest of the day." The distraught audience, including Adam and Mrs. Watson, slowly exited the building with sighs of mild disappointment. I, however, remained standing against the Wand in the empty and quiet auditorium. Where was that young lady? How was she doing? And what on Earth had caused her to cry out in that manner? Despite the peculiarity of the incident, what stunned me the most was that I was vitally determined to find the answer to all three of these questions...and I had no idea why.
"Hey, kid. Du gotta leave now. Zeigen aint' happenin' today. Du heard Mr. J." The usher's name was Ralph. I'd seen him at many of these recitals in my time, and he'd never been the sweetest Süßigkeiten in the jar. I'd have to play it cool if I wanted to find Amy. "Oh, um, hi Ralph.", I replied, "I'm leavin' in just a minute. Gotta go...uh...find Mrs. Watson...and do, uh...that thing!" I couldn't feel my face right then, but I was sure I looked awfully stupid. Then again, this was Ralph I was talkin' to. "Ahhh,", he chuckled, "Alright, Marc...and would ya please tell her to call me later tonight." "Uh, no problem Ralph.", I smiled. I never told her.
Now that I was alone in the theater came the real challenge: Finding Amy. I placed my violin on oben, nach oben of one of the empty seats in back and headed up to the stage. The curtains were drawn, so I had to crawl my way under them. Man, what a dusty floor! All I remember about those brief moments in the dark threshold behind the curtains was just that: the darkness. After looking around aimlessly for a bit, a dimly lit doorway behind the stage caught my eye. "Gee,", I thought, "Talk about creepy." I stepped through the doorway quietly as not to make a single noise. There was another door at the end of the hallway, and I could see Mehr light pouring through the bottom. Right as I lifted my hand to knock on the door, I stopped myself and began to brush myself off, straighten my tie, and pat my hair down. "Okay, Marcus.", I thought, "This could be Amy...or it could be Mr. Jacobs...or even worse, a closet full of clown masks." Without a single moment passing, I lifted my hand once again, but this time, I knocked.
"Who is it?", sobbed a distressed female voice, "Go away! Leave me alone! I don't want to talk!" My herz sank as I slowly wrapped my hand around the cold brass doorknob. I reluctantly turned it and opened the door a little...and then some more...and then some more, until I stood looking at a scene that made my herz sink even further down into my stomach. There sat Amy Walters, her face buried in her arms, crying.
"Uh, hello...I'm-" "I don't care who Du are! Get out!", cried Amy as she lifted her head to look at me. Her sleek auburn hair still held the radiant quality it had when she had sat down to play her piece, and her caramel-colored eyes peered deeply into my soul. Once again, I was at a complete loss for words. "Uh..um...I-I saw your performance earlier...you were very...skillful...wait no! I mean, Du played nice...I mean nicely...you played nicely the piano. Er, Du played the Piano nicely." I gave a frustrated sigh, and Amy's expression of anger began to soften. "I liked your performance it was good." The small studio had come ablaze with light chuckles, and I thought I saw Amy smile for the very first time. She began to speak, stopped herself, and then began again. "You. I've seen Du around town. You're...Matthew, right?" "Uh, no I'm actually-" "Oh, yes that's right, Martin!" "Uh..no I'm-" "Marty?" "...I'm Marcus. But most of my Friends call me Marc." I thought I saw her blush. "Okay, well, I'm Amy." She nervously extended a pale hand and I extended my brown one. "Uh, it's nice to meet Du I guess." I couldn't think of anything else to say at that moment. "Nice to meet Du too...er..Marcus?" "That's right."
At that point, I remembered why I had really come to find her here. I remember clearing my throat before beginning. "Amy? What happened earlier? Why did you-what made Du have to leave the stage?" The girl's face had become flushed with worry. "Well,", she started, "I just...I had a thought." "Elaborate.", I grinned. "Well, let me just say that I've been having some problems lately. Du see, my parents...they're never at these recitals." My jaw must've dropped with my surprise at hearing that this was the reason for Amy's breakdown. "Well, my mom didn't come today if that helps." "No, Marcus. Du don;'t get it. They never come. Ever. And every time I play-" Her voice began to crack a little. "I have to look into the front row and see two empty seats, staring back at me." Amy began to cry once again, Mehr quietly than before. "Okay.", I thought, "What on Earth do I do right now?" Rather than allowing myself to be overtaken with the moment, I placed my hand onto her back and began to coax her gently. "I understand why that could be...difficult." "No Du don't. They are never around, they don't come to see me play, they never say they Liebe me oder that they're proud of me, and nothing is ever good enough." All of a sudden, I realized that this girl's problems were far Mehr deeply seeded than I had realized. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do with the gegeben circumstances. "Well, Amy,", I whispered, "I think you're amazing, and quite lovely." She stopped crying for a moment a wiped her eyes. "Thank you, Marc. You're very nice....and quite handsome."
A jolt of excitement surged throughout my being and I lifted my hand from her back. "How about some music?", I offered, "No Piano though." "Alright.", replied Amy quietly. I had seen a rack of old records lying underneath the clock upon entering the room, the record player sitting on oben, nach oben of it. Whoever this studio belonged to was old school...really old school. I fingered through the records until I found the only one on which I could read the title. "Here we go.", I exuded excitedly as I began to read the title, "Nat King Cole's Unforgettable., a duet with Natalie Cole." "Hmm.", I mumbled, "Sounds like somethin' Gramps listens to." Amy let out that same laughter that I so cherish today. "Put it on, Marc!", she urged. "Alright, alright." I removed the covering from the record and placed it onto the record player before taking a sitz Weiter to Amy. (with her permission of course) It came as a pleasant shock to me that the machine still worked. The first notes of the tune began to play.
"Wow, this is such a beautiful song.", Kommentiert Amy as she turned and smiled at me. "Yeah...I guess it's alright." No longer was she the distressed soul I had found crying Von herself upon entering the studio. She was rather a radiant and enthusiastic Angel – Jäger der Finsternis of a girl, whom I could not help but smile back at. "You know what?", I sagte impulsively, "Let's dance, Amy." It was like magic the way those caramel-colored eyes lit up and the way those kirsche lips curled into a smile I can't even begin to describe with words. "Okay!", she replied as she stood up from her sitz and grabbed my hand. "Here we go." "Marc?", she inquired. "Yes, Amy?" "I've never...danced this way before." "What way?" "You know...this close." "Shhh.", I reassured her, "I've got you." As the song came to a close, I felt her rest her head onto my shoulder and a smooth, soft hand slide down my side before gently taking my own. "Marc?", she whispered once again, "I don't ever want to let Du go." "I don't ever want to let Du go either, Amy.", I whispered in return.
To be continued???
November 3rd, 2001. I was 17 years old, and I remember it like it was yesterday. My mother had just dropped me off at the annual Winter Season Recital. It was a cloudy winter's morning and the winds danced in unison to the melancholy tune of Mozart's requiem in D minor. As I made my way to the auditorium, my violin case around my left shoulder, I could feel the beginnings of a light drizzle upon my forehead. "Goodness," I sighed, "Where on Earth did I leave that umbrella?" As the rain began to pour harder and faster, and the winds began to dance Mehr angrily than before, my light trot had become a full-fledged sprint to the auditorium door.
"Hello, Marcus.", smiled Mrs. Watson, my violin instructor, "We're going to be on next. I hope you're ready for that solo." "Hi,", I replied as I wearily extended a single hand, "I-I'm ready." We both let out a light chuckle as we exchanged a gentle handshake. "Marcus?", added Mrs. Watson, "Come on over here I saved Du a seat....please do try to be on time Weiter recital." "Uh, okay...thank you."
As I sat down at the end of row two and laid my violin case against the wall, I was delighted to see who I was seated Weiter to. It was none other than Adam, my "partner in crime", as I called him. Adam was a tall, red-haired dude, a little older than I, yet far less mature on any Tag of the week. "Well!", he ejected, "Nice of ya to Zeigen up, Marc!" "Shhh!, I warned, "They're about to start the Weiter piece!" "Geez, Marc." After a few short moments of stage transition, a lone pianist took center stage. Adam had positioned his body such that it was nearly impossible for me to make out the image of the beautiful young lady, about my age, in a wine-colored dress until she had gracefully taken her sitz in front of the piano, and begun to play.
I remember closing my eyes, and marveling at the sheer beauty of Schubert's Serenade. It was as if every note lifted me higher and higher into euphoria. And then it happened. Just as the final notes began to float through the auditorium, the beautiful pianist gave a terrible cry that shakes me to my core even as I write these words. It was as if someone had stabbed her in the side, the way she had collapsed upon the instrument.
"Woah,", laughed Adam, "Did Du see th-." "Hey man, stop it. Something might be wrong with her.", I protested. "Oh," responded Adam with a slightly amused grin, "You didn't know?" At this point, I was at a complete loss for words. "Dude, that's Amy...Amy Walters. She's a nut. I'm surprised they even let her play this morning, Marc." Adam's jovial explanations of the incident continued to drone on as I skillfully grabbed my violin case and made my way over Mrs. Watson. The crowd was in a state of complete and utter shock, and no one had moved a muscle. "Mrs. W?", I called, "What happened to Amy?" My instructor wore an expression of quiet confusion. "I-I don't know, Marcus...I think she just...I don't know."
Von this time, the young lady and the Piano had vanished from the stage, and a lone spectacled man in a red suit jacke took the floor. This was Mr. Jacobs, the recital's director. "Attention everyone! Attention!" The man cleared his throat. "It would appear that we are experiencing some...minor difficulties, and the rest of the recital will have to be cancelled for today. Thank Du for joining us this morning and we are sorry for the inconvenience. Have a wonderful rest of the day." The distraught audience, including Adam and Mrs. Watson, slowly exited the building with sighs of mild disappointment. I, however, remained standing against the Wand in the empty and quiet auditorium. Where was that young lady? How was she doing? And what on Earth had caused her to cry out in that manner? Despite the peculiarity of the incident, what stunned me the most was that I was vitally determined to find the answer to all three of these questions...and I had no idea why.
"Hey, kid. Du gotta leave now. Zeigen aint' happenin' today. Du heard Mr. J." The usher's name was Ralph. I'd seen him at many of these recitals in my time, and he'd never been the sweetest Süßigkeiten in the jar. I'd have to play it cool if I wanted to find Amy. "Oh, um, hi Ralph.", I replied, "I'm leavin' in just a minute. Gotta go...uh...find Mrs. Watson...and do, uh...that thing!" I couldn't feel my face right then, but I was sure I looked awfully stupid. Then again, this was Ralph I was talkin' to. "Ahhh,", he chuckled, "Alright, Marc...and would ya please tell her to call me later tonight." "Uh, no problem Ralph.", I smiled. I never told her.
Now that I was alone in the theater came the real challenge: Finding Amy. I placed my violin on oben, nach oben of one of the empty seats in back and headed up to the stage. The curtains were drawn, so I had to crawl my way under them. Man, what a dusty floor! All I remember about those brief moments in the dark threshold behind the curtains was just that: the darkness. After looking around aimlessly for a bit, a dimly lit doorway behind the stage caught my eye. "Gee,", I thought, "Talk about creepy." I stepped through the doorway quietly as not to make a single noise. There was another door at the end of the hallway, and I could see Mehr light pouring through the bottom. Right as I lifted my hand to knock on the door, I stopped myself and began to brush myself off, straighten my tie, and pat my hair down. "Okay, Marcus.", I thought, "This could be Amy...or it could be Mr. Jacobs...or even worse, a closet full of clown masks." Without a single moment passing, I lifted my hand once again, but this time, I knocked.
"Who is it?", sobbed a distressed female voice, "Go away! Leave me alone! I don't want to talk!" My herz sank as I slowly wrapped my hand around the cold brass doorknob. I reluctantly turned it and opened the door a little...and then some more...and then some more, until I stood looking at a scene that made my herz sink even further down into my stomach. There sat Amy Walters, her face buried in her arms, crying.
"Uh, hello...I'm-" "I don't care who Du are! Get out!", cried Amy as she lifted her head to look at me. Her sleek auburn hair still held the radiant quality it had when she had sat down to play her piece, and her caramel-colored eyes peered deeply into my soul. Once again, I was at a complete loss for words. "Uh..um...I-I saw your performance earlier...you were very...skillful...wait no! I mean, Du played nice...I mean nicely...you played nicely the piano. Er, Du played the Piano nicely." I gave a frustrated sigh, and Amy's expression of anger began to soften. "I liked your performance it was good." The small studio had come ablaze with light chuckles, and I thought I saw Amy smile for the very first time. She began to speak, stopped herself, and then began again. "You. I've seen Du around town. You're...Matthew, right?" "Uh, no I'm actually-" "Oh, yes that's right, Martin!" "Uh..no I'm-" "Marty?" "...I'm Marcus. But most of my Friends call me Marc." I thought I saw her blush. "Okay, well, I'm Amy." She nervously extended a pale hand and I extended my brown one. "Uh, it's nice to meet Du I guess." I couldn't think of anything else to say at that moment. "Nice to meet Du too...er..Marcus?" "That's right."
At that point, I remembered why I had really come to find her here. I remember clearing my throat before beginning. "Amy? What happened earlier? Why did you-what made Du have to leave the stage?" The girl's face had become flushed with worry. "Well,", she started, "I just...I had a thought." "Elaborate.", I grinned. "Well, let me just say that I've been having some problems lately. Du see, my parents...they're never at these recitals." My jaw must've dropped with my surprise at hearing that this was the reason for Amy's breakdown. "Well, my mom didn't come today if that helps." "No, Marcus. Du don;'t get it. They never come. Ever. And every time I play-" Her voice began to crack a little. "I have to look into the front row and see two empty seats, staring back at me." Amy began to cry once again, Mehr quietly than before. "Okay.", I thought, "What on Earth do I do right now?" Rather than allowing myself to be overtaken with the moment, I placed my hand onto her back and began to coax her gently. "I understand why that could be...difficult." "No Du don't. They are never around, they don't come to see me play, they never say they Liebe me oder that they're proud of me, and nothing is ever good enough." All of a sudden, I realized that this girl's problems were far Mehr deeply seeded than I had realized. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do with the gegeben circumstances. "Well, Amy,", I whispered, "I think you're amazing, and quite lovely." She stopped crying for a moment a wiped her eyes. "Thank you, Marc. You're very nice....and quite handsome."
A jolt of excitement surged throughout my being and I lifted my hand from her back. "How about some music?", I offered, "No Piano though." "Alright.", replied Amy quietly. I had seen a rack of old records lying underneath the clock upon entering the room, the record player sitting on oben, nach oben of it. Whoever this studio belonged to was old school...really old school. I fingered through the records until I found the only one on which I could read the title. "Here we go.", I exuded excitedly as I began to read the title, "Nat King Cole's Unforgettable., a duet with Natalie Cole." "Hmm.", I mumbled, "Sounds like somethin' Gramps listens to." Amy let out that same laughter that I so cherish today. "Put it on, Marc!", she urged. "Alright, alright." I removed the covering from the record and placed it onto the record player before taking a sitz Weiter to Amy. (with her permission of course) It came as a pleasant shock to me that the machine still worked. The first notes of the tune began to play.
"Wow, this is such a beautiful song.", Kommentiert Amy as she turned and smiled at me. "Yeah...I guess it's alright." No longer was she the distressed soul I had found crying Von herself upon entering the studio. She was rather a radiant and enthusiastic Angel – Jäger der Finsternis of a girl, whom I could not help but smile back at. "You know what?", I sagte impulsively, "Let's dance, Amy." It was like magic the way those caramel-colored eyes lit up and the way those kirsche lips curled into a smile I can't even begin to describe with words. "Okay!", she replied as she stood up from her sitz and grabbed my hand. "Here we go." "Marc?", she inquired. "Yes, Amy?" "I've never...danced this way before." "What way?" "You know...this close." "Shhh.", I reassured her, "I've got you." As the song came to a close, I felt her rest her head onto my shoulder and a smooth, soft hand slide down my side before gently taking my own. "Marc?", she whispered once again, "I don't ever want to let Du go." "I don't ever want to let Du go either, Amy.", I whispered in return.
To be continued???
Here are some Mehr texts from people.
1.Writing and then sending a funny e-mail oder text message to my friends.And of course,imagining their faces when they read it.
2.I really like driving at night when there's no traffic,listening to my favourite music.I feel completely free.
3.Staying in bett on Sunday morning and Lesen the newspaper.Then getting up very late and having my dog for a walk.
4.I enjoy going to the jym and really getting tired then taking a long hot dusche followed Von a nice hot cup of tea.There's nothing better.
5.Turning off my computer at the end of the day.Leaving work,and getting into my car to go home!It's the best moment of the day.I Liebe it!
1.Writing and then sending a funny e-mail oder text message to my friends.And of course,imagining their faces when they read it.
2.I really like driving at night when there's no traffic,listening to my favourite music.I feel completely free.
3.Staying in bett on Sunday morning and Lesen the newspaper.Then getting up very late and having my dog for a walk.
4.I enjoy going to the jym and really getting tired then taking a long hot dusche followed Von a nice hot cup of tea.There's nothing better.
5.Turning off my computer at the end of the day.Leaving work,and getting into my car to go home!It's the best moment of the day.I Liebe it!
Last summer I went to Los Angeles to stay with my cousin for a few weeks.One afternoon we were having lunch in a nice restaurant in the centre of the town when my cousin got a call on her mobile phone and went outside to talk.While she was speaking to her friend,I suddenly noticed a man in a black hat who was sitting at the Weiter table.It was the actor Johnny Depp!He was alone,and I decided to take my chance.So I got up and went to his table:'Excuse me,could I have my Foto taken with you?'I asked.He sagte yes,so I stopped a waitress who was passing Von and gave her my camera.She took the Foto of me and Johnny,I thanked them both,and then I returned to my table.When my cousin came back,I smiled.'Why are Du looking so pleased with yourself?'she asked.
'I had my Foto taken with Johnny Depp.'
'Johnny Depp?Where is he?'
'He's sitting over there.Look!'
She turned around to look and then started to laugh.
'That's not Johnny Depp!'I looked at the man in the black hat-he was laughing too.
'I had my Foto taken with Johnny Depp.'
'Johnny Depp?Where is he?'
'He's sitting over there.Look!'
She turned around to look and then started to laugh.
'That's not Johnny Depp!'I looked at the man in the black hat-he was laughing too.
As ancient as mother Earth’s treachery
Caught in the line of Athena’s sight
Left alone to travel in this treacherous world
She walks in beauty, like the night
Though with beauty comes this fight of death
In this quest she fails though she tries
Eternally alone in this fateful dark
Of cloudless climes and starry skies
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent
How could it after what happened?
My pain unbearable, yet it happily shines
I look on from Artemis’s tent
As the sun sets on the sea that took his life
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
I will never forget my Liebe for him
As a Huntress I now see Hermes
With the soul of the Lost he flies off like a crow
Till we meet again, farewell my love
Caught in the line of Athena’s sight
Left alone to travel in this treacherous world
She walks in beauty, like the night
Though with beauty comes this fight of death
In this quest she fails though she tries
Eternally alone in this fateful dark
Of cloudless climes and starry skies
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent
How could it after what happened?
My pain unbearable, yet it happily shines
I look on from Artemis’s tent
As the sun sets on the sea that took his life
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
I will never forget my Liebe for him
As a Huntress I now see Hermes
With the soul of the Lost he flies off like a crow
Till we meet again, farewell my love