Flash Fiction: The Violinist

The music had started right on time and today, I was prepared.

Excitedly, I climbed over the wall and jumped into the courtyard of the mansion. I was finally about to find out the source of the beautiful music I heard every evening. I crept along the grassy path and hid behind the low inner-barricade. Carefully, I snuck a peek and my eyes fell upon a lady. Dressed in a black gown, her straight, sable hair waved around as she played her violin. Both my ears and eyes were captivated by the masterpiece before me. Suddenly, without any warning, she turned around and looked directly at me. Her pale face showed a mixture of shock and annoyance. She took a step towards me.

“What are you doing here?”

I stood up and slowly began retreating.

“I’m sorry milady. I heard your beautiful music and I just had to know who was playing it.”

Her eyes widened.

“You shouldn’t have listened.”

“I agree, milady. I don’t belong here.”

Before she could say anything, I turned around and ran back the way I came. If I had waited I would have heard her ominous words.

“No, child. This is the music of death. Only those about to die can hear it.”

I found out the truth in her words while I was trying to climb down the outer wall of the mansion.

Now I am permanently bound to the black lady, a perennial audience to her music…


Word Count: 245

Prompt:

#MenageMonday Challenge – Week 2×40

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