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Write about a character who was raised in a musical family.

Posted in High School on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 49 stories

Haunting in E

Submitted to Contest #26

Iris stepped in shoulder-first, a cardboard box digging into her palms and a new silver key hanging from her finger. “Let me know if your mail key doesn’t work,” called the landlord, already retreating. “My number’s taped to the fridge.”“Okay—” called Iris, as the landlord vanished down the stairs. She carried her box through the dusty little entry and turned the corner to greet her empty, new, sunlit, blissfully-hers apartment—and stopped dead at the edge of the living room. When the landlord had emailed her two weeks ago to let h...

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When the Birds Whistle

Submitted to Contest #26

Everybody in my family is a musician. Ever since my great, great grandfather showed an interest in the musical field. It’s expected “if your last name is Birdwhistle,” or so my dad says. And yes, our last name really is Birdwhistle. Ironically, as we’re a musical family.              I’ve never understood what the big deal was. Sure, music is cool and all but why do people waste their time on noise? Why do people pay big money to hear a person sing?    ...

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The Silent Noise of Truth

Submitted to Contest #26

The interviewer was nervous. She twitched and fidgeted while having one last look at her questions in the minutes before it began. ‘Relax’ I told her. ‘I’m not like the others.’By others, I meant my family. She had interviewed all of them several times, individually and together. In fact, she was the only one they would give interviews to. But she had never interviewed me. She hadn’t seen me since I was a chubby toddler, still blissfully unaware. Nobody had seen me except a close group including Nannies, teachers and a few other kids at my ‘...

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Great-Grandpa's Violin - A Story for Children

Submitted to Contest #26

Tara's Great Grandpa was a famous violinist, and everyone in the family played some musical instrument. Music floated about the house at all times of the day, and Tara adored her harmonious home and musical family. On Monday and Thursday afternoons, she would hear Mama's long tapered fingers fly over the black and white keys of the study's piano as she showed her students the mastery of the scales. Papa would get in late after work and, he too would head for the study to strum the nylon chords of his favourite acoustic guitar. While Toby, Ta...

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The Beats of Laneaux

Submitted to Contest #26

‘Every morning it happens like this.’ Tabatha thinks to herself as she wakes up with a splitting headache. The house bumbles of a thunderous noise. “Ugh!” Tabatha yanks herself out of bed pissed, frustrated, but most of all annoyed. She quickly puts on her robe, bolts out of her room, runs down two flights of stairs, then kicks open the basement door. ‘I’m going to ring this little mutha...’ Her eyes are in disbelief when she notices that on this morning it is not only her little brother beating away at the drums, but also her older sister o...

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Heartstrings

Submitted to Contest #26

It was not uncommon for Peter to think of shrieks and cries when reflecting on his childhood.  Although he doesn’t remember much, the stories told to him by neighbors still ring clear in his mind: Sounds could always be heard through windows of the McCleod’s small, blue, two-storey home in southern Massachusetts. The screeches were those of a single violin being stretched and plucked near to its breaking point. Peter, who lives in the city now, cups a black coffee between his palms. He feels its warmth seep from the blue, polk...

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I Don't Play the Harmonica

Submitted to Contest #26

            Whenever the holidays approach, I’m filled with dread. Not the dread that spills from your heart when your boss tells you to clean out your desk. Or the dread that’s a heavy weight that chomps away at your soul when your doctor insists you give up fast food or else you’ll die. No. I’m talking about something far worse—holiday dread. Yearly celebrations which include an orchestra of gleaming instruments—compliments of an overbearing but musically inclined family—fueled by...

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The Music's Captive ***This is Not Based on a True Story***

Submitted to Contest #26

My name is Melody. Melody Saunders. And I hate music. Okay, I know that was a forceful note to start on. (No pun intended, I promise.) I don’t hate music, I just strongly dislike it. Now, you might be thinking, ‘How could someone with Melody as their first name possibly hate music?’. Well, when you’re someone with my background, you would. My mother, Alina Hart-Saunders, is the vocal music director at the local high school, and my father, Casey Saunders, is the band director at the same school. They have tried so many times to try and get me...

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Earbuds and a Notebook

Submitted to Contest #26

Every family has a quirk or tradition that holds them together. Some make big breakfasts every Sunday. Some run family business. Some run marathons on Thanksgiving. That kind of thing. My family is musical. Every family member is part of a band, orchestra, or music class. Well, that is everyone except for me.My parents say I’m tone deaf. My sister says I’m stupid, but that’s beside the point. Over the years I’ve gotten used to being the family disappointment, or the “unique” one as my mom puts it. She’s always told me ever since I was a kid ...

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The Band Johansson

Submitted to Contest #26

The strums of his guitar started up through the tinny speakers. Gary adjusted the strings slightly, as his mother and father entered the room from the family’s upstairs apartment busily. His mother wore her bronze suit, her legs appearing to shine under her beige stockings. She kept her blonde hair loose down her back, and wore no jewelry other than an abnormally large cross-shaped brooch on her chest. His father was smartly donned in a black blazer, a striped white shirt and black pants. They were the picture of humility and simplicity...

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The Music Prodigy Who Didn’t Want To Be A Musician

Submitted to Contest #26

Practice. Practice.Practice. And more practice.That was all she had to do for most of her life. Even now, her long, slender fingers moved gracefully across the keys of her beautiful ivory-white grand piano. The piano was placed in a corner of the room close to one of two large windows. Closer to the other window was an upholstered daybed. It looked very comfortable and inviting. There was a cozy fireplace too. It was built into the wall on the opposite side of the room and fit snugly as if it just belonged there. On the right side of the pia...

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That’s all, papa

Submitted to Contest #26

Every second of every day, it was there. In the space between conversations, in the back of my mind. The notes and rhythms. The dynamics, the key signature, the score. I would sit at my desk and school and tap, tap, tap, the long-embedded songs in my head. I woke up to the enticing voice of my alarm and breezed downstairs to the soft humming of my mother while she made breakfast. I got in my car and listened to the all-too-similar beat of the pop songs on the radio, and walked into school with my earbuds in. I greeted my friends, I went to c...

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The Dusty Piano

Submitted to Contest #26

He let the silence envelope him. It was the kind of silence that made his ears ring, deafening. This must be what normal houses are like. Houses that aren't constantly filled with chatter, scales, riffs and old records. This is what a Sunday morning sounded like. Not like his Sundays growing up that were filled with his mother making pancakes and singing show tunes, harmonizing with his sister Ava, while dad slept in from managing the jazz club the night before. Sundays in this house were full of joyful noise. Every moment of silence was mer...

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The Magic of the Harmonica

Submitted to Contest #26

"Vikkie! Come on! You have to try out for the band! Your parents are musical prodigies! Plus I am going to be there!" My best friend Tara pleads,"just because you try out doesn't mean you'll make it! We just have to hurry to find the instrument for you!" Tara is always peppy and enthusiastic. She speaks loudly and boldly through her actions. One time, when our other friend Penny had cancer, Tara shaved her head with Penny. All I did was send her a gift basket. Another thing, Tara once started a protest against plastic bottles. She had this s...

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The Accord, Cue

Submitted to Contest #26

The Accord, Cue“The woman literally can’t carry a tune across the street. I don’t know why she keeps forcing this. It is so sad. She shows for voice lessons twice a week. Singing is not this little bird’s gift,” Ms. Adele said in frustration to her husband and confidant.“Why does she keep forcing it? That doesn’t make sense to me.” He tried soothing his wife’s frustrations.“I don’t know. I don’t think she can hear her own voice. In her mind, she believes she sounds great. But Lordt, try being me and having to listen to her, to guide her thro...

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