It is very quiet in there. It has been a long time since I went out of this box; I think I'm going to die here. I am an old flute now and I can say I have had a wonderful life.
I can't remember my birth, and anyway who is able to do so ? I was never told about it, it was in some industry I suppose. What I really remember of my first months is the time spent in this music shop, I was exposed behind glasses among clarinets, trumpets, metronomes and so on.
One day, a little girl came in and asked for a flute. I was sold to her. I was so happy to have a mistress at last ! I was thinking about splendid concerts where I would be the star, I would express myself in a soft and harmonious song and everybody would applaud me... The reality was not quite the same.
My first sounds were painfully high-pitched and unclear, some of my mistress's spits on my mouthpiece got myself dirty, her fingers left some traces on my body, daily scales hurt me...
I felt disappointed and a little scared. Was my life in danger ? How could that nice little girl be such a monster towards me ? But, as I think of it now, I was wrong. She was very young - less than 10 years old - it was obvious she hadn't played an instrument before and she didn't know that beyond my tough metal appearance, I was kind of fragile. In fact, she was only inexperimented, just like me. I realized we were much alike, both of us, and our fates would be inextricably linked.
Several months later, my mistress's teacher told us we were about to play in the next concert, just before Christmas. I was so proud ! Our talent would be noticed !
But an hour before our turn, I began to feel nervous... What if we made mistakes ? Would everybody laugh at us ? I was thinking too much and when we had to play, doubt and fear disturbed me. My mistress's fingers and my keys were shaking a little, yet the piece was short and easy and finally the public applauded and their smiling faces relieved us.
It was done and after that, it occured to me that I wanted to play again, I wanted to feel this thrilling experience one more time. My wishes would become real soon after. Indeed, there were many little concerts that followed and I tried new experiments by playing not alone but with other instruments such as flutes, pianos and guitars. These duets, trios, quatuors were really interesting and pleasant. Thus, I learned how to play my part listening to the others'. Besides, this reminds me of the first time I played with another flute.
At first, I saw it with antipathy, I felt as if we were about to compete against each other. I could feel its hostility even in its sharpen keys. However, we had to play well in order not to make our own mistresses look ridiculous. So me sang the notes with our most beautiful voices and we discovered that our sounds put together formed a perfect harmony. From that day on, we became friends and loved each piece we could play together.
Some years later, still together, we joined a big philharmonic orchestra. Once again I was very anxious of this promotion. We were joining an important society where the other intruments were much older, much gifted and better than us. Though we didn't feel ready for this, we put all our worries aside and sometimes we would wink at each other to give us heart.
Two years later, we could say we had significantly improved our musical skills. Consequently, one day, the teacher gave me a unique opportunity: playing a solo. I was so excited ! I felt I could almost reach the glory I had always dreamt of. I practised a lot in order to play perfectly on D-day.
Unfortunately, the worst things often occur when you are on top. On this gloomy day, after a long practising, my mistress wanted to clean me before putting me back into my box. I had played well, I deserved some rest. Her hands were a little wet because of the effort and when she took me, I slipped.
I could watch my fall as if I were a witness of the scene. Time went slowly but the impact was inevitable. The pain was indescribable. When the shock decreased, I realized that one of my key was bent and I couldn't play right anylonger.
The verdict was clear: I had to be repaired.
I spent two long weeks in that special store and I felt very uncomfortable, not only because of my wound but I was also scared of my "doctor".
It was an old man with dark eyes that pierced me every time he cast his eye over me. What I really remember is his way of taking me with his crooked fingers with yellowish nails and the worst of it, after torturing my keys with a screwdriver, he pressed his thin lips on my mouthpiece to test me. The thick hairs of his bristly moustache irritated me and I couldn't bear his horrible breath.
At that very moment, I wished I had never existed. He kept me as his prisoner such a long time that I became afraid of missing the next concert ad above all, my solo.
Fortunately, I returned on time. I was shiny and all ready for playing it. On that night, I was very moved when I saw all the people in the room disappearing into darkness and all the spotlights upon me. The orchestra began to play and soon after, I started.
All the anxiety vanished and I let the melody transport me. It was like flying: my voice raised in the air and overhung in the room. It was delicate, subtle,magical. The piece's end came too quickly and I had to get out of this dream.
When all the notes fainted, there was a defeaning silence, then the public burst into applause.
This was the most beautiful moment of my life.
After this breathtaking night, there were other concerts, other great moments but they weren't as wonderful as this one. Then my mistress realized that music took too much importance in her life and she decided it was wiser to focus on her studies.
Since that decision, I spend more time in my box than in music classrooms or concerts. I get dusty in here and my shine tarnished even if I try to scrub myself at the soft velvet inside my box. I'm tired. I lived about ten years and I'm going to put an end on this. I'm dying, remembering that special night and the passion I shared with my beloved mistress.
I can't remember my birth, and anyway who is able to do so ? I was never told about it, it was in some industry I suppose. What I really remember of my first months is the time spent in this music shop, I was exposed behind glasses among clarinets, trumpets, metronomes and so on.
One day, a little girl came in and asked for a flute. I was sold to her. I was so happy to have a mistress at last ! I was thinking about splendid concerts where I would be the star, I would express myself in a soft and harmonious song and everybody would applaud me... The reality was not quite the same.
My first sounds were painfully high-pitched and unclear, some of my mistress's spits on my mouthpiece got myself dirty, her fingers left some traces on my body, daily scales hurt me...
I felt disappointed and a little scared. Was my life in danger ? How could that nice little girl be such a monster towards me ? But, as I think of it now, I was wrong. She was very young - less than 10 years old - it was obvious she hadn't played an instrument before and she didn't know that beyond my tough metal appearance, I was kind of fragile. In fact, she was only inexperimented, just like me. I realized we were much alike, both of us, and our fates would be inextricably linked.
Several months later, my mistress's teacher told us we were about to play in the next concert, just before Christmas. I was so proud ! Our talent would be noticed !
But an hour before our turn, I began to feel nervous... What if we made mistakes ? Would everybody laugh at us ? I was thinking too much and when we had to play, doubt and fear disturbed me. My mistress's fingers and my keys were shaking a little, yet the piece was short and easy and finally the public applauded and their smiling faces relieved us.
It was done and after that, it occured to me that I wanted to play again, I wanted to feel this thrilling experience one more time. My wishes would become real soon after. Indeed, there were many little concerts that followed and I tried new experiments by playing not alone but with other instruments such as flutes, pianos and guitars. These duets, trios, quatuors were really interesting and pleasant. Thus, I learned how to play my part listening to the others'. Besides, this reminds me of the first time I played with another flute.
At first, I saw it with antipathy, I felt as if we were about to compete against each other. I could feel its hostility even in its sharpen keys. However, we had to play well in order not to make our own mistresses look ridiculous. So me sang the notes with our most beautiful voices and we discovered that our sounds put together formed a perfect harmony. From that day on, we became friends and loved each piece we could play together.
Some years later, still together, we joined a big philharmonic orchestra. Once again I was very anxious of this promotion. We were joining an important society where the other intruments were much older, much gifted and better than us. Though we didn't feel ready for this, we put all our worries aside and sometimes we would wink at each other to give us heart.
Two years later, we could say we had significantly improved our musical skills. Consequently, one day, the teacher gave me a unique opportunity: playing a solo. I was so excited ! I felt I could almost reach the glory I had always dreamt of. I practised a lot in order to play perfectly on D-day.
Unfortunately, the worst things often occur when you are on top. On this gloomy day, after a long practising, my mistress wanted to clean me before putting me back into my box. I had played well, I deserved some rest. Her hands were a little wet because of the effort and when she took me, I slipped.
I could watch my fall as if I were a witness of the scene. Time went slowly but the impact was inevitable. The pain was indescribable. When the shock decreased, I realized that one of my key was bent and I couldn't play right anylonger.
The verdict was clear: I had to be repaired.
I spent two long weeks in that special store and I felt very uncomfortable, not only because of my wound but I was also scared of my "doctor".
It was an old man with dark eyes that pierced me every time he cast his eye over me. What I really remember is his way of taking me with his crooked fingers with yellowish nails and the worst of it, after torturing my keys with a screwdriver, he pressed his thin lips on my mouthpiece to test me. The thick hairs of his bristly moustache irritated me and I couldn't bear his horrible breath.
At that very moment, I wished I had never existed. He kept me as his prisoner such a long time that I became afraid of missing the next concert ad above all, my solo.
Fortunately, I returned on time. I was shiny and all ready for playing it. On that night, I was very moved when I saw all the people in the room disappearing into darkness and all the spotlights upon me. The orchestra began to play and soon after, I started.
All the anxiety vanished and I let the melody transport me. It was like flying: my voice raised in the air and overhung in the room. It was delicate, subtle,magical. The piece's end came too quickly and I had to get out of this dream.
When all the notes fainted, there was a defeaning silence, then the public burst into applause.
This was the most beautiful moment of my life.
After this breathtaking night, there were other concerts, other great moments but they weren't as wonderful as this one. Then my mistress realized that music took too much importance in her life and she decided it was wiser to focus on her studies.
Since that decision, I spend more time in my box than in music classrooms or concerts. I get dusty in here and my shine tarnished even if I try to scrub myself at the soft velvet inside my box. I'm tired. I lived about ten years and I'm going to put an end on this. I'm dying, remembering that special night and the passion I shared with my beloved mistress.
