This is a beginning of a story. I wanted to see what you think. I have more written, so if you want more, don't be afraid to ask.
The Diary of a Young Pianist.
Hi. I’m Eric Tyler. I live in Dublin, with older sister (Diana) and my parents Mick and Teresa. I’m 11 and considered (by my principal, school and family) a musical prodigy. I have to admit, I am quite good, if you don’t mind me saying. This is my diary (yes a diary, a boy’s diary!) of a year that nearly changed my life, one might say.
Well, I suppose began one faithful day last June, which possibly is day that started this adventure, and earned me my nickname of course. Oh and by the way, sorry if my handwriting is messy.
Eric Tyler’s Diary!
Keep Out!
That means you Diana!
June 14th 2004.
Today started off, and every Monday does. You find yourself clinging to the sheets, as your mother tugs you away from them, muttering: “Hurry up, Hurry up! You’ll miss the bus if you don’t get up! C’mon it’s ten past eight!” The funny thing is, that they always lie. Not once have you missed the bus. Not once do mothers tell the correct time. They say it’s 8.15, when it’s 8.00. Or it’s 7.30 when they say it’s 7.45! It’s madness! Well that’s got nothing to do with today. Well Diana and me arrived at school. By the way, if someone finds this diary, I’m in fifth class, and my sis is in sixth. We joined our classes in our separate classrooms and our teachers arrived. We did are assigned work while Peter O’ Kay, the class clown sat at the back, flinging small pieces of rubber, at his annoyed classmates, who each let out a small grunt as the rubber collided with his or her head. After the bell rang, signalling it was past 12, there was a small knock on my classroom door. The teacher rose from her desk, where she was correcting English homework. She disappeared for a moment. The class let out a sigh of relief, slumped back in their chairs, and began whispering to each other. The minute the doorknob move slightly, the whole class jumped back into action, sitting up straight, lips sealed and continued with their work. The teacher returned smiled politely. She stood up at the top of the classroom.
“Eric Tyler,” She announced, ”Principal’s office,” All eyes were on me. I put my pencil, and walked out of the classroom out into the deserted corridor. The corridor, was usually crammed with people, but now it was empty. I reached the principal’s office, and knocked twice on the door.
“Come in,” Mr Murray’s voice boomed. With a shaking hand, I opened the door.
“Please Eric, take a seat,” He nodded toward a seat. I could tell something was up, by the tone of his voice.
“You wanted to see me sir,” I was beginning to feel nervous. The only time I was in the principal’s office before was in junior infants. I suffer from hay fever. I was outside playing, when suddenly I sneezed, and found that I couldn’t stop. The principal brought me to his office to get my phone number, and ring for my parents. But back to today. I sat down in a chair, opposite Mr Murray.
“Well, as you know, the end of the year, tin whistle concert is coming up…” I nodded. Every year, classes from 3rd-6th play a variety of tunes on their tin whistles for the rest of the school, and parents.
“Well, I was wondering if you would like to give us a piano recital afterwards?”
“Piano recital?”
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