Skip to main content

The Cello

https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/vittorio-zamboni-467151.jpg

It taunts me as I look at it, where I left it last, in the spare room. It is saying play me, but how can I play? My lost limb is no longer there, taken by the crash, smash of the driver who claims he didn't see me coming.

'Wow you were amazing'.
'You are going to go far with your talent'.
'Next upcoming Cello player Jessica Kimyani'.

These were the past phrases, the reviews I used to receive in my concerts. I was approached to play at the Royal Opera House. But the accident took that away like a thief stealing precious momento's from the house.

The pink ribbon, lush and full of life, raps itself around the Cello like a snake, whilst I broken, tattered and worn stand in it's glow.

'I'm sorry, but we have to cut the arm off' said the Physician.
'But my arm, it is necessary?'
'Yes I'm sorry Miss Kimyani, but the arm has extensive damage and it has to be cut.'

That was the choice I had, none. I didn't have a decision so I gave away my arm and had it cut, sliced and ripped apart from my body like piece of meat. I was given the option of a Prosthetic arm and hand, it would take a couple of weeks for them to get it sorted. Then I was out of the hospital quickly in and out with my past self ripped away.

'I'm sorry' eyes would be lowered without direct contact.
'Your'e a strong person, and will get through this'.
'Anything that you need let us know'.

But I didn't hear from anyone after the accident, I was an embarrassment, a thing to be pitied or ignored like a leper. Even the music company I was assigned too, though I was expecting it, said that I could take some time out to recover, which meant that my career was over.

It looks fresh as it stands there, painted new, lush and staring at me in the spare room, I am sure it's laughing at my stub where my arm used to be. It is saying you can't play me any longer, you are a cripple as the light hits it's beam from behind and glistens my eyes.

I grab it by the throat, and wrestle with it around the room with one arm. I rip it's strings, I break it into pieces, shattering it like my arm was by the driver who was let off with a caution by the police.

There is nothing left of it, just bits of wood, and demolished remains of it's body as it lays there on the floor. The past self that I was no longer a part of who I am now. That awaits me to figure out who I will be now, the Cello has defined my name but it can no longer control my future.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dexter Pearson

  As a child, I loved to eat Mars bar eagley: having small bites and using both fingers to shove the little crumbs of chocolate in my profusely watering mouth. I grew fat because of this, ‘Little chubby Dexter’ I was called whilst growing up in Dagenham. I was always picked on and my mother used to try to calm me down by saying ‘Dear Dexter’. I would get bad grades in class, I am sure you can relate to the bullying readers, I sometimes would lose concentration in the class like a bull losing its horns from his head due to the name calling ‘fatty’, ‘chubby’ or ‘roly poly’. But I am Dexter I wanted to say Dexter Pearson, but I didn’t have the guts to stick up for myself at that time, nor today for that matter.    I did try to lose the weight, I joined the Essex group ‘little runners’ who ran through Barking Park as I was around eight at that time, but I looked like a ball bouncing up and down the park lanes and the children would laugh at me as I used to dru...

Looking out of the Window

http://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/dan-bo-an-217449.jpg Looking out of the window, she departs from the station, with some hestitaition about the journey ahead, moving away from home and the childhood memories. Looking out of the window, she remembers how mum cried, dad hugged her but looked smug about the university acceptance letter to study medicine, but she is hesitant over the journey ahead from home and the childhood memories. Looking out of the window, she had agreed for Janet her younger sister to have her old bedroom, but feels feel gloom over giving up her personal things from the past, but this was bypassed by Janet who was elated, but now she feels hesitate over the journey from home and the childhood memories. Looking out of the window, is the future of new beginnings. What lays ahead are new friends, studying, a degree, and her parents that will still visit her, as the train moves very fast from her home, from the past to th...

Easy Way to the Top

‘The winner of this year’s ‘Star Quality’ is…….. Janice Hopkins’ Janice could not believe it, she had actually won. Pop, bang, clapping, the other contestants screaming, it was chaos. The big man himself Mr Robert Lorenzo came over to congratulate, standing and posing with the camera’s flashing. ‘How do you feel?’ asked Mitzy as she squealed like a pig in the microphone. Her big bosoms were clearly visible from her top emerging like a ship from the sea. The camera’s were at a close up inspection not obviously of her face which had make up smeared on layered as a cake.   Janice thought for a moment, one minute she had been busking on the streets of London and now she was a winner one of the biggest reality shows on television.    She could see Mitzy blinking faster, and faster waiting impatiently for the answer, so she blurted out the cliche ‘it’s amazing I can’t believe that I would be winning the show’.   Mr...