The cello sat in a corner of the café, always un-played.
Annette tuned the strings, polished the spruce, maple, ebony, and rosewood, all for that special one night of the year.
The café closed early – no one minded. She’d pour herself an ice-cold class of sauvignon-blanc, whispering, “Alexei, it’s time” And, like magic, the cello would play – soaring solos that brought tears of joy to Annette’s eyes.
Then, when his night to play was over, she felt his arms around her, a soft kiss upon her lips and a whisper in her ear, “Until next year.”
For more on Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields here. Other participants stories can be found here.
image © Björn Rudberg
November 22, 2016 at 9:38 am
Dear Lorraine,
Ditto with Dale on the teeny tiny font. Good story, though. Worth the squint.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLike
November 22, 2016 at 1:52 pm
I shall never live down the font “event” lol.
Glad you found it worth the squint. Sorry I couldn’t provide a virtual magnifying glass, lol.
LikeLike
November 21, 2016 at 3:31 pm
Wow, that is some glass of wine!
LikeLike
November 21, 2016 at 5:15 pm
A good glass of sauvignon-blanc is amazing.
LikeLike
November 21, 2016 at 6:03 pm
I agree! :)
LikeLike
November 21, 2016 at 6:14 pm
Hard pear cider comes a close second.
LikeLike
November 21, 2016 at 6:38 pm
LOL…well I have never had that, so I will have to take your word on it.
LikeLike
November 21, 2016 at 11:27 pm
Try it some day! Best if made from pears only, not apple cider with pear juice added.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 19, 2016 at 7:42 pm
Well written. The emotion really came through.
LikeLike
November 20, 2016 at 1:56 pm
Thank you! : ] :
LikeLike
November 19, 2016 at 8:21 am
Touching and beautifully written.
Isadora 😎
p.s. I agree with Dale. The font was a tad tiny. ~~~ : – )
LikeLike
November 19, 2016 at 11:37 am
Thank you and I sure hope to keep the font a readable size.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 21, 2016 at 2:34 pm
😎
LikeLike
November 18, 2016 at 4:56 pm
Beautiful and haunting piece. Sounds as if one day a year, her dead lover comes back to play the cello and hold her before returning to the afterlife. Well written too.
LikeLike
November 19, 2016 at 7:40 am
Yes, that’s the feeling I was trying to evoke. Thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 18, 2016 at 9:31 am
Lovely ethereal feel to this – (evoked memories of Demi Moore & Patrick Swayze in Ghost)
LikeLike
November 18, 2016 at 9:38 am
Thank you — I hadn’t thought, consciously, of Ghost.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 17, 2016 at 10:14 pm
That was a beautiful story.
Man… can your font be any smaller? My eyes were straining to read even with my glasses!
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 10:31 pm
That was a mistake — the font was supposed to be larger! I didn’t intend to give folks eye strain.
Glad you found the story beautiful anyway. And, made it to the end! Thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 17, 2016 at 10:36 pm
LOL. No worries. I thought man… I need me some new spectacles!
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 10:48 pm
I tend to have that effect on people, lol
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 17, 2016 at 6:06 pm
We were on the same wavelength, my story dealt with the same topic. Your story had a very poignant ending with the whisper and the kiss.
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 7:27 pm
I tried to read your story, but you had taken down your word press site?
If you are still reading, thank you for stopping by — I would like to read your story.
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 6:52 am
What a touching story. Your protagonist and mine should meet up.
xx Rowena
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 7:16 am
Just read your piece — yes, they should get together. Annette could give him the peace he lacks, and teach him to listen for the whispers.
Your story is poignant and bittersweet. They do dovetail well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 17, 2016 at 5:55 pm
It’s incredible, isn’t how two people can write stories that fit so well together even though we’ve never met.
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 8:04 pm
True — strange isn’t it how just serendip just happens.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 18, 2016 at 5:38 am
Definitely!
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 5:21 pm
At first I saw her as a secret player,
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 7:13 am
Good guess!
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 2:53 pm
Lovely. Heartwarming and heartbreaking.
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 8:44 am
Thanks, Wendy.
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 2:39 pm
So heavy with loss… at least the ghost came back for one night per year.
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 8:45 am
I imagined it was an anniversary or a birthday. Some very special day they shared together in life.
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 2:38 pm
Lovely evocative atmosphere. I wonder what tragedy befell him?
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 9:11 am
A tragic death no doubt. Accident? Hereditary Disease? Murder? This could become a longer story, do you suppose?
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 16, 2016 at 12:17 pm
Aching with loss, Lorraine. I wonder if there was something significant about that night – a birthday, an anniversary? A precious night together. Lovely
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 8:47 am
I was thinking birthday or anniversary, perhaps their first date or the first time they slept together. A very special night — you’re right.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 17, 2016 at 9:03 am
Yes, that comes through in the story. A very touching, loss filled tale, Lorraine
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 12:15 pm
I’m guessing it was his ghost. This has a very eerie quality to it.
LikeLike
November 17, 2016 at 8:47 am
Guessed right. She waits for him every year.
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 10:48 am
I had a hard time reading this. You made me search for my reading glasses. :-)
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 11:34 am
Meant to be in Garmond 12 — came out in Garmond 10. Was it worth finding your reading glasses?
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 16, 2016 at 11:36 am
I will tell you when I find them :-)
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 11:37 am
My story might need a reblog, lol
LikeLiked by 1 person
November 16, 2016 at 9:49 am
Such a heartfelt story, so sad.
LikeLike
November 16, 2016 at 10:20 am
Sad, I know. The story kinda told itself. At least they still had that one special night of his music each year.
LikeLiked by 1 person