basric: (Team Playwrite Zone)
2012-02-09 06:59 pm
Entry tags:


Jessie bent beneath the tape her partner Jack held for her, “Hell of a way to die.”

Jack shrugged, “Crime of passion.”

Jessie looked up, up to the sinful gorgeous face of her partner, his Indian heritage and sighed, he was rarely wrong. He tossed back that long full mane of black hair, “I love this city; just to listen her sing.”

Jesse widened her eyes. “Sing?”

“Jessie, close your eyes and tell me what you hear. Go on.”

She closed her eyes and grumbled, “A frigging garbage truck, some man is screaming at his wife, babies crying.”

“What else, really listen?”

“Sirens, police, ambulance and fire trucks, and I hear the beep of a large truck backing up. I hear voices, slap of leather on the sidewalk, the click of heels. I hear cabbie yelling and tires splashing through the puddles from the earlier rain.”

“Ah yes,” she opened her eyes to see him smiling at her. That is our lady singing for us along with the music of the city.”

A hundred miles north their music would be crickets and tree frogs and the wind rustling It though the grass and branches of the trees.

She sighed, “You’re too deep for me, Jack, gimme the keys.”

“Really?” he always drove.

She snorted, “Yeah, you just sit back on the way to the station and listen to the symphony, I’ll drive.”
basric: (Team Playwrite Zone)
2012-02-09 07:59 pm


Abby had been taught from the cradle music was sinful. But being late for a class one day had her taking a shortcut through the music building. Halfway down the hallway she froze listening to the sounds from the room beside her.

A woman sat at a piano playing but oh the sounds. How could anything so beautiful be sinful? The woman turned and saw her, waved her in. She entered wearing her full black shift and sensible shoes and her hair twisted painfully into a bun at the nape of her neck.

“Please, sit beside me.”

I shouldn’t, my faith it believes it’s sinful...music is; but that was so beautiful.”

“You see the piano it is plain and black, its keys white and black. The sheet music is on white paper and the music notes are black. Each note is a sound like speaking. Music is a way of speaking to the soul.”

She touched each key and named it, tentatively Abby followed her.

“Now follow the notes as I play the notes.” Music filled the room and Abby closed her eyes with delight.

Once the music stopped Abbey requested, “May I try.”

“Oh, honey this music is for very advanced students.”

“But you said to just play the notes.”

“Okay but don’t be disappointed for your first time.”

Abby followed the notes. The teacher stood her hand at her throat, her mouth hanging open.

Abby turned as the last note died away, saw the teacher, “Was it wrong.”

“No child, you were perfect. Honey, you’ve a gift. Come with me, there is a man I wish you to play for.”

“But I have class.”

“Trust me, nothing is more important than this and I’m not letting you out of my sight until the Maestro hears you play.