Die Writing

The Devil and the Musicians, part 2

Posted in The Devil and the Musicians by erdaron on July 9, 2010


I can’t stop listening to this band.


It was late in the night, and the Violinist stepped down stage to play a solo. With his eyes closed, and leaning into his instrument, he carefully, patiently hung the lonely notes on the midnight air. The rest of the band huddled behind him. They seemed to be in a slumber as the Violinist played, their stillness occasionally betrayed by a nod or a tap in rhythm with the music.  Silence entered the room as everyone intently listened to his tale of love.

He didn’t have to look up, or even open his eyes to know that She was here. Her presence was so poignant to him that a beating heart was the only sense he needed to feel her near. No one had seen her enter, and it’s entirely odd how she had found an empty table in the crowded house. Strange things happened in this joint.

Yet there she was, beautiful as a summer’s shadow. All that the Violinist could do was grip his instrument tighter, draw a deep breath, and keep on playing. Tears rolled down his face. He dared step closer to the edge of the stage, and leaned forward, inching toward the temptation. But as he opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of the old memory, she was gone in a wisp of thin black smoke. Directly behind her, leaning on the wall, was the Devil, the never-ending cigarette stuck in the wicked grin.

“You can have her,” the Devil said silently.

“No, I can’t,” replied the Violinist.

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