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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write a story about someone learning how to play an instrument.

Posted in Nonfiction on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 75 stories

“She’s back up again” by Yoomi Ari

Disclaimer of liability-  By now, you know I’m not a doctor, therapist or professional on depression, self-harm and other related topics. That being said, please review my disclaimer below:I am not a licensed medical doctor, therapist or expert. The purpose of my story is to send a message and address a topic, and to offer a little entertainment along the way. If you are seeking a professional opinion on how you should proceed to achieve your personal g...

54 comments 54
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“The Broken Strings” by Riddhi Shedge

She lived in an orphanage. Sad. Isolated. There was never any exciting news. Outside, the weather was tragic. The thunder boomed against the windows and the rain poured heavily. There was barely enough food for all the hungry stomachs.She wandered into the playroom. Tattered chairs and broken toys were spread out across the chilly floor. She dug deep into the blue toy box, hoping to find something. She stuck her hand farther into the box and rummaged around. Then she felt it. Her hand ran over something smooth and round....

8 comments 8
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“The Art of the Contrivances” by Cam Croz

Ezar It had started as a mere statement, I would have never thought it’d go this far. At first I’d just wanted something to prove my worth to the others. I could tell by the way they treated me that all I was to them was in the way. That’s why I had to show them that I was not just some stupid kid they were forced to cradle, to waste their time around.  I was capable of anything! I just had to want it bad enough right? They would finally notice me for my real self, and then-  Well- “Look h...

18 comments 18
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“Perseverance” by Niveeidha Palani

I had practically nothing to do. I watched the rain pour down dreamily and heavily down the roads and the pavements. It was gloomy and tiring. Besides watching all the movies (plus episodes) on Netflix, reading all the books off my bookshelf, spying on my boring neigbours, watching my brother play boring video games and observing my mum sort out files and documents for her office the next day, I was looking for something else to do. I scrolled through all the Netflix movies, hoping to find a new I dragged my feet ...

21 comments 21
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“Once Upon a Viola” by Amiable Sorceress

I played the violin since I was 5 and coloring all over the walls. It was always there in my life, but I hardly noticed. As I grew older, there was a book club, swimming practice, and dance. My parents often reminded me to practice, and my teacher pushed me to memorize songs, rhythms, and practice bow holds, with me often getting bored out of my mind. All these years after (7 years), I wondered why I didn't quit a long time ago. Mostly, as I was looking back, I figured it was the feeling of dread in my stomach building up that quitting vi...

0 comments 0
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“Fingertips that Burn” by Izzie Q.

Her fingertips vibrated like a bee while mine flopped. Her arm remained taut and straight, mine like a stiff blade of grass. The heavy ivory strings pull at my fingers and sent angry bullets of pain through the rough skin.  I tuck my fingers into the palm of my hand and squeeze delicately. My eyes shift over to her glossy black hair that dangles against her back. I consciously reach up to tug my hair and place it behind my ear. It h...

12 comments 12
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“The Allurement of Music” by Jeanne Marceau

The way he moved his head as he struck each key, how her fingers lingered up and down the mic but most importantly the gaze she lays on him when she sings a line only meant for him, those were the moments I looked forward to each and every Wednesday night. The music of two lovers. I remember seeing his first performance here at the bar and the immediate lure it had not only over me but anyone who could hear the delicate sounds that sprung from such a composed instrument. The pianists always stood out for me whether they...

2 comments 2
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“Failed Virtuoso” by Anushka Binoy

The wind gently tapped at the window panes, chinks of light streaming in through the freshly polished glass.Anna gazed at the battered, case in front of her. The same battered case that had once been her world; that had once pushed her to perform on the biggest stages in front of hundreds of blurry, unknown faces. But she had failed. She had let the fame get to her head. She knew that now. She unzipped the case. Holding her breath, she carefully opened the lid, half expecting dazzling rays of gold to emit from wit...

2 comments 2
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“The Brittle Trombone” by Ed Vela

"Did you want me to dust around the mantelpiece too?" said the thin, pale teenager with the unruly hair."No, I really want the mantelpiece to stay dirty. And it would fill me with joy for you to accommodate me on that one." answered the crusty, old curmudgeon seated on the black leather recliner.Now, high school sophomore Lindsey Garrett was only there because the court mandated that he serve 60 hours of community service for his fun but unauthorized ride around the golf course in a doctor's golf cart.<...

5 comments 5
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“The star that shines after the moon” by Iyin Oyebanji

Darell ran his hands over the violin, the dust clung to his fingers like a second skin. His breathe shook as he carried it in his arms and cradled it like a child, the strings strummed with a sweet and gentle hum. Her trademark moon was etched in the body of the violin and her moon also etched into the bow, he lifted the bow to play a tune but he couldn't bring himself to do it cause it reminded him too much of her. Despite the time of disuse the violin was still tuned and in perfect shape. Tears glistened in his eyes and he dropped the ...

11 comments 11
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“Spite is the Best Motivator” by Lily Kingston

I’ll never remember the day she walked through the door. I’d like to say it was because the car accident damaged my head in addition to my right arm, but the actual reason was because back then, I didn’t care. However, I’m told it went a little something like this… Her knuckles softly rapped on the cold metal door of my music room, but I didn’t even bother to look before I asked. “Who is it?” “Umm…? I’m Amelia. Your two o’clock.” She said as she peaked her head through the doorway. I obsessively wip...

3 comments 3
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“Summer wings” by Roxie ...

I see it, as the piano notes cascade down my ear canal leaving nothing but a vibration. A beautiful butterfly, golden like the fiery sun I fear the most, yellow like the silky hair of the boy in front of me and silver like the tears that fall from his jealous green eyes. Emerald like the drums he plays, slowly yet steadily keeping pace with my heartbeat. It flies freely. I watch and envy it as its elegant wings flutter in the distance, flying ever so high. My breaths are shallow as I lift my right hand up onto my guitar, th...

5 comments 5
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“Learning how to stand on my own two feet” by Ashley Patterson

I remember it like it was yesterday I can still smell the Christmas cookies baking in the oven.My family was here for the holidays like every other year, the sweet sound of quietness echoed loudly as my father played silent night on his piano and just like that my life as I knew it would change forever. Here it is 4:30 am and my body is soaking wet like I just ran a marathon it's been a year and the past is still hunting my dreams. I close my eyes and take a deep breath the accident is fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. December...

0 comments 0
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“clara and the clarinet” by Masha Kurbatova

I was clinging on, I was okay, until I put my AirPods through the washing machine. One-hundred and eighty dollars in broken plastic because I couldn’t be bothered to check the pockets of my only pair of jeans. Of course I can play my music out loud, but you know it’s not the same; earbuds are like a hug, whereas out-loud music is a wave hello from far away. I need sounds vibrating in my ear canals at all times, words and synthesizers pouring constantly into my brain. Otherwise my mind begins to digest itself, the way stomachs do when left...

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“Part of the learning process” by Nicole Leah

         I am waiting for you.                The paper, imprinted with little black songbirds, all in a row, singing on the power lines, calls out to me:               “Listen to my language.”               But I am past listening; my heart sings alon...

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