Showing posts with label The Cellist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Cellist. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Tantalyzing Tuesday Teasers, April 8, 2014 ~ The Cellist

Ah ha!! It is Tantalyzing Tuesday and I don't know about you but I have missed my weekly challenges and the inspiration of my prurient partners. It's been so long! Remember? The skill involves selecting a photograph of one's own choice and writing a 200 word story, a bit like trying to get 10 pounds into any two pound bag!

Today I have imaged a beautiful cellist, a lifetime away, but only separated by a wall, and a private housebound admirer. Is he crippled by shyness, a broken body, agoraphobia or just inexperienced around women? We won't know for he will never meet the object of his passions and she will continue to come and go in his silence leaving her beauty, fragrance and music hanging in her absence.

Tell me what you think in the comments section below then do, please, go visit the other participating authors to see what they have prepared for you in a mere 200 words or less based upon a photo of their choosing. They are listed below as notes of a concerto, one-by-one on a sheet on music or by the link. A demain, mes amis. Enjoy!! xo

The Cellist
He watched her arrive, every day, for the many years. She moved with the elegant slow motion of wedding-lace in the breeze: softly responding to the wind, impediments and children playing noisily in the street. She carried her violoncello case in her small grip, gracefully dodging any hindrance. He lost sight of her on the threshold when her key awakened the latch in the door with a worn tumble. He could only imagine her stature as her measured footsteps on the carpeted stairs announced her arrival beyond his door. 
 
She was so beautiful. 
 
She was graceful and refined, self-assured in her demeanor and wore her striking splendor with bearing. In the room above him, he heard her entrance as her melodic cadence carried her through the apartment to the front window for her lesson.
 
He settled just below her in his own bay-window to listen and dream of her before him, stroking her cello, creating music; it was for him alone she played. She leaned into her music, her golden hair falling across her breast, as he felt every caress, every change in tempo, every vibrato her bow seduced from the instrument. 
 
So compelling was her image, he silently wept......again today. 

 
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