Today, I have:
Had my hair cut
finished judging round 3 of the SlingInk Scribbling Slam. And again, I’ve been very impressed with the standard.
Which leads me rather nicely onto this…
As with the 1st round, I’m delighted to post the winner of the 2nd round here. It’s a short, short story called Crescendo, it’s been written by Juliet Boyd and I think it’s rather fab.
Written by Juliet Boyd
She hates the sound of violins.
I knew that before we started going out. She wasn’t the romantic type. The most I ever heard was a few plucked heart strings, never a full-blown melody. Complete opposites.
I had hoped that my feelings would be masked by the plink plonk of the raindrops, but even as the rain gets heavier and the cymbals begin to crash, I can hear the notes oozing out. She turns towards me, her eyes narrowed, her head tilted. A low note surrounds her. I know that tone. Lurking, just waiting for its moment to explode. I start to whistle. I never whistle.
I’ve been practising for this one night for weeks. Breathing techniques. Relaxation techniques. A bit of vigorous exercise. I even went to a seminar to learn how to suppress my inner tuning. Nothing worked.
So here we are.
The restaurant is packed. Full of couples. Discordant as a whole, but individually beautiful in their harmonies. For once she says nothing as we sit. I look into her eyes and my heart begins to bow. Slowly at first. But something is wrong. No, not wrong, right. I can hear a second string intertwining with mine. She smiles. Our tune rises out of nowhere and blocks out all other sound. Its strength binds us.
And I get down on one knee.