THE
CLEANER
Nobody
laid a finger on the clavichord after Charlotte’s accident, and when Sir
Richard opened the house to the public the instrument was imprisoned behind
posts and silken ropes. It languished forgotten, yearning for the past glory of
its parlour days.
Each year its soul died a little.
Then Leo
joined the cleaning staff. A cheerful lad, he tended the antiques wielding his
polishing cloths and loving everything equally - until one evening sunset turned
the clavichord to gold.
Glancing
round guiltily, Leo lifted the lid, and as music flowed out into the empty room
the clavichord’s soul sang again.
...................................................................................................
I wish I had room in my home for this beautiful little instrument - there's even space for a glass of wine to one side! This photo comes courtesy of Jan W Fields, and was posted on this blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ as a prompt for Friday Fictioneers - an online group of roughly a hundred writers worldwide who use the weekly prompt to write 100-word stories.
This is not as easy as you might think - follow the blue frog trail from Rochelle's site to read some other stories. After you've commented on mine, of course!
Musical instruments are meant to be played, not displayed - imprisoned is a great choice of words. I love the happy ending you gave it.
ReplyDeleteYou got my point perfectly, Annalisa - thank you!
DeleteLovely tale. I look forward to coming here.
ReplyDeletethanks Sandra :)
DeleteA beautiful story, Liz.
ReplyDeleteDear Liz,
ReplyDeleteAll I can do is add my voice and tell you what a lovely story you've written. Golden, simply golden.
Shalom,
Rochelle
All I can say is another thank you, Rochelle!
DeleteWhat a delightful tale.
ReplyDeleteVisit Keith's Ramblings!
Thanks Keith - I had an Uncle Keith so I'd better pop over to see yours!
DeleteEnjoyed this one, Liz!
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked it, Susan.
DeleteLovely story, Liz.
ReplyDeleteCoincidentally I'm also writing something about a musical instrument which hasn't been played for a long time.
Must be something in the TB vibes, Patsy! I bet yours is longer than mine, though.
DeleteI love this. There is something so tragic about a silent instrument.. And it doesn't matter who plays it - it has to be played
ReplyDeleteExactly - the clavichord in the photo looks as if it's in a museum.
DeleteI must echo Bjorn's remarks. We gave away an altar from a defunct Masonic Lodge yesterday. It was sitting in a damp basement. Soon it will be cleaned, polished, and become a cherished piece of furniture in this man's office. I'm sure the old altar is rejoicing.
ReplyDeleteGreat! Like musical instruments, wood needs to be loved. My other half had a Chinese altar we couldn't take abroad so we hired a car and drove it hundreds of miles, and on a ferry, to give to his son.
DeleteAt least Leo doesn't play ABBA!
ReplyDeleteI see no reason why he shouldn't, even on a clavichord!
DeleteThat's such a lovely, uplifting story. I agree on everything wood, it needs to be loved and treated as a living thing.
ReplyDeleteI own a chunk of tree liberated from a woodpile that looks like a fairy mountain.
DeleteLovely story, Liz. It's so romantic. It turns to gold. I love that. I wish I could have one of these, too.
ReplyDeleteCan you play, Amy? I only reached Grade 2 piano, a very long time ago!
DeleteHooray for Leo! Lovely story, and beautifully told.
ReplyDeleteThanks Margirene - Leo knows when an instrument needs playing.
DeleteLovely story. It rings a bell and reminds me of the philosophy that even the non living things are like living in some dimension.
ReplyDeleteThanks yarnspinner. Musical instruments are particularly resonant, I think.
DeleteGreat flash fiction which makes me feel bad for not playing my instrument as much as I should do.
ReplyDelete