“Amy did you see this?” John tossed me the morning paper.
Stradivarius stolen from Milwaukee symphony concertmaster
“Hmmm. That’s terrible. I’m heading out to the shop”.
Grandfather Lipinski had taught me to shape curves, gently bending wood, balancing tone shave by shave releasing her glory. I made violins as he had. Like our ancestors before us. As he’d taught his apprentice Antonio to do in Cremona; Yet Gypsies we were called. And a Genius he was touted for centuries.
Opening Poppa’s ornately carved chest I withdrew my birthright. Lips caressing velvet varnish, my chin upon her rest “Welcome home”.
Word Count: 100
P.S. Please make sure to read the others.
This is one of those Friday Fictioneer moments. Where a photo sparks multiple directions. Some days I can barely write the one story and then on other days like today, my inspiration split, two come forth. When this happens I try and make an executive decision and cull the lot. Not today.
On my way into work this morning the news of the stolen Stradivarius came over the radio. I have an intimate connection with the violin which is a story for another time. But my obsession with the sound of the Strat is well known in my family. None would be surprised to hear I wished I’d stolen this masterpiece, the violin Ex-Lipinski. Just to play her for a moment (even horribly) would be incredible.
But when I first saw Claire’s photo my initial thought, actually memory, was of my first kiss, if you can call it that. It took place in 6th grade Woodshop. So of course I wrote that story. Which I am posting below for safe keeping.
Learning to Smoke
We’d cleaned our stations, sawdust swept, tools returned-my miniature rocking horse nearly complete. Upon the workbenches we awaited the class bell. Mr. Handly instructing “Sit still”. My BFF and I hurriedly gossiped.
Bobby and Frankie sat on the other side. As first steadies in sixth grade go we’d never actually gone anywhere. Everyone just knew, including us, that Bobby was MY boyfriend.
Little hairs perked upon my neck, Bobby tapping my shoulder. Mid-Giggle I turned. Thrust back suddenly he planted his kiss. Head hitting the vice I sprung up, flushed, sore, bell ringing and ran red-faced seeking solitude.
Oh! the first kiss was so cute 😀 Loved the first story too, very ingenious. Good job!
Thank you Sam.
I loved your story about your first kiss.
It was memorable. Thanks Dawn.
Two wonderful stories but my favourite is the first one-a surprise ending 🙂
Thank you. The first is my favorite as well. It is the dream. The other an all to familiar reality. 🙂
I was going to ask if you heard violin music when Bobby planted his buss, but you made it pretty clear that you didn’t. I envy your ability to discern between the sound of a Stradivarius and other fine quality violins. Two good stories this week.
Perhaps it is all in my head. No one has actually studied my self proclaimed talent. I just know what gives my goose pimples and stirs my soul. Thanks VB
Two masterpieces this week. I humbly bow. I wouldn’t want to have to choose between the two.
Thanks Rochelle. Sometimes it is impossible to choose.
I enjoyed both stories. There was a lot of realism in both.
I can’t decide which I enjoy better, darling. But it’s good to see you being extra-creative!
I’m not writing this week, but I’d love it if you’d drop by my blog for a second anyway, I posted a big announcement today.
Not writing this week? Well then you can have my kiss story. Consider it yours. I didn’t enjoy it all that much the first time I lived it. As for the violin……I’m keeping it. I will hop to your blog forthwith. Thanks Darling.
Ah that was a sweet revenge.. Great that you weaved in a piece of reality… Hmm
Thanks Bjorn. Nothing like a precious piece of art and intrigue to inspire theft.
Lovely, both of them. I’m really pleased the photo inspired not just one story, but two!
Claire your photo was inspirational for me. Usually I try to put that kiss far out of my mind. 🙂
Enjoyed them both. Well done.
I like the violin story more. The kiss story is sweet.
I like the violin too. I mean story. 😉
I can see the awkward first-kiss moment and as for stealing the violin, I’m just glad it only happened in your story. It did, right? 🙂
No comment. Excuse me I need to get back to my shop. 😉