A/N: I like to write these random things and I just decide whether I want to call them poetry or prose or short story or whatever. 'Cause half the time I don't even...Anyways this was written for a friend who was a musician but music wasn't the theme I was striving for (if any of you guys out there get that; if not--it don't matter). I'm sure there's grammar/punctuation mistakes that someone can point out and I'd love to fix those but...yes, I am aware I probably use fragments too much and that's how I like writing so yeah I might not change any of that (fair warning).
There once was this musician who could write music like one writes their name. Simply. Quickly. Without thought or pause. As if she had heard the sounds all her life.
And this musician's creations danced along the air, caressing passerby's feet until they too moved in time and place. She played on a street corner for a while with her black guitar case open and empty, dark as a black hole but with no gravitational pull. Or no sign of one anyway since every time I stopped by the case was still sadly vacant of any type of money, including the somber sparkling glow of loose change.
It wasn't something I understood—how she kept playing rain or shine, day or night. And how she never got any money for the illustrious gift she freely shared with all. It didn't make sense to me, the world's apparent greed and her never-ending hope. The two were clashing notions; sides that would never truly compromise.
And beautiful notes trickled and ebbed in the soft wind.
Then one day as I crossed the street aimlessly it came to my attention that there was no accompanying soundtrack. No familiar thrum of worn out strings that had the infinite ability to produce new songs. My eyes wandered in search of a plainly dressed slim figure and a black case flung open like wide raven wings.
And I couldn't find her there.
A couple of years passed by and to tell you the truth I never felt more saddened or remorseful as I did when passing that street corner. Never had I experienced that sensation of "missing" or "incompletion" as I did when finding myself at a spot once full of life now dreary and cold like the rest of my path to work every day.
Once, just once, I got lucky and heard something that sounded similar to what I used to watch calloused fingers compose...but it was a lightning song on the radio, striking once, never to touch there again. A girl called in and requested a more popular boy band selection right after its completion.
It wasn't until I was old and gray did I see the musician again. I was slowly making my way for the last time to the office when achingly familiar notes flew to me in the gusty air. My heart pounded harder than I'm sure my doctor would have liked it to, but it allowed me to push my dilapidated form faster to that now whole-again street corner.
She sat sluggishly, slumped tiredly, against the graffitied wall but her face was relaxed and smiling widely like the guitar case by her side. Pretty little things littered the air around us, so much music and passion that even my near-deaf ears couldn't ignore the strain. I grinned at her and asked her where she'd been.
I wasn't surprised when she told me that she was on the radio a couple times. Performed a couple of concerts. Got a lot of money.
"But ya know," she said, "It really ain't the same. I soon discovered I wasn't truly playing for me no more. There wasn't nothing to it. It was nice music, sure, but it wasn't my music. And some people could keep it that way. Some people could bring their hope with 'em. But me? I forgot what it means to be a musician. And I don't want to ever forget that again. So...I think I'm back to strumming on street corners."
I watched as shaking hands easily made that guitar sing and haunted eyes shined with pride at the notes coaxed out of it. And people all around the street stopped to stare or paused for a moment to feel their hearts race and their toes twitch.
And her scars sailed by on a breeze past me as a young girl raced across the street and dropped a crumpled dollar bill into my ratty black guitar case.
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,827 Reviews
Hi!
Sorry I know it's just a small detail.
Here for an ultra-short review.
I just want to start off by saying I really liked this piece, awesome idea and the imagery you create really makes it what it is. The story itself is simple, yet you wrote it so beautifully that it is definitely worth reading. There was one thing that kept nagging at me though: the narrator keeps saying that her guitar case was empty, with no money. But id he/she liked her music so much why didn't he/she give a dollar or a few coins?
I might be wrong but I think you need to have either a comma after 'playing' or another word in between 'playing' and 'rain' like 'whether it was'
Again, I'm not sure but I think you need to replace 'did I see' with 'that I saw', something about it doesn't sound right to me.
The last sentence, as someone already mentioned, confuses me? Did you mean anything in particular by using the word 'scars'?
Oh, well I looked at the previous reviews and it seems like they've already covered all that I wanted to say.
Hi there! How about a review?
I enjoyed reading this piece. I'll get into talking about it properly, but I'd like to point out some quibbles first. On the whole, your spelling and grammar was good, and I didn't have an issue with fragments, and it didn't seem like you overused them.
This sentence feels a bit too long. Firstly, it needs a comma after 'anyway'. \and I'd probably split it up into two sentences => 'Or no sign of one anyway, since every time I stopped by the case was sadly vacant of any type of money. There wasn't even the sombre, sparkling glow of loose change.' or something like that. It's up to you, but the sentence just felt like it went on for a bit too long.
Like the first sentence I mentioned, this really needed commas or something to split it up. I also felt like the wording was a bit off. I reckon your best bet would be to change "a spot" to 'this spot', follow it with a full stop, put a comma after"life" and add 'it was' before "now". Finally, you should have a comma after 'cold'. Did that make sense at all? It's up to you how you change it, but there definitely needs to be some kind of space to breath.
Like the other reviewers, I found your closing statement a little confusing. It sounds gorgeous, for sure, but you probably should have alluded to the scars in some way before this, so it didn't sound so much like it was lobbed in at the end.
Your imagery in this was lovely, and you set a really nice tone to the piece. Really strong use of metaphor, and you managed to make this story, which was mostly just descriptions, very appealing to the reader. I enjoyed the ambiguity, even to the point where I might have liked not knowing the musician's full story at the end.
A fantastic job, and a pleasure to read.
First off thank you for the pointers on the grammar and actually I have sat wondering about that one sentence (the one with loose change) on whether it was too long or what not. So...the fact that you pointed it out and gave me some options at solving that problem I can definitely find a way to fix it up!
Since it has been mentioned, I will try adding more hints to allude to what the scars are and the fact that the musician and the narrator are similar people (or the same person) as it seems, from people's responses, I've been too subtle with it. I thank you for taking the time to read this and review! I value your insight and will hopefully be able to construct a better, edited version of this that helps the reader understand a little bit more. I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
-Bright
No worries! Let me know if you post an edited version, because I'd be happy to read it.
Hey! This is great.
It is a bit fragmented at times, as you pointed out, but it is still really good.
I liked the ending the best. Now, I'm not sure if you meant to say 'my ratty black guitar case' but if you did, well wow! I read into it that the narrator was the musician, or that she started playing music afterwards. But, if that is the case, maybe hint at it a bit more throughout the story. Of course, it could have just been a mistake that you should fix up.
You have this interesting way of creating this story that I really like, you manage to entwine metaphors and imagery into everyday events really naturally, without forcing them. Just, be careful of repeating things too much. Like Wolf said, you tell us a few times that she doesn't understand why nobody paid her. So just be careful with that.
All in all this is a lovely little story with a sweet message.
Good job and keep it up!
Nargles xxx
Yes haha I did mean to say "my ratty black case" and you read into the story correctly which gives me hope.
Obviously it has been pointed out that perhaps I should add more hints in there (I didn't want to make it too obvious but apparently I've been too subtle XD) so I will think of adding or revising it with a better balance of hints and subtlety. 
I will be careful of repetition. It was intentional in that paragraph to have that repetition, however, upon reading the reviews, perhaps that should be revised...
In any case thank you for your insight, review, and I'm very glad you thought this little thing was great.
-Bright
No problem, it makes me happy that the ending is how it is, but yeah, you don't have to add too many hints just a few here or there so it doesn't come out of nowhere.
Hello there, Wolf here to review!
I really liked this piece, it flows really well and it has a good theme to it.
To start off, I'll do some nitpicks:
I feel like this seems like an awkward way to start; I think 'a musician' would be better, but it may just be my personal preference. Also I think (not positive) there should be a comma between 'musician' and 'who'.
So this paragraph has a lot of repetition. You say twice that the narrator doesn't understand, just in different ways.
Add the comma.
I felt this last line was confusing. Her scars? I don't understand, what scars? And at the end you say 'my ratty black guitar case.' I think it should say 'the musician's' instead of 'my'.
Again, I really liked this, but this is so hard to connect to! I mean, I get that it's about music and how this musician lost her roots, then found her way back, but your character's don't even have names! They kind of seem lacking, I feel this is a good little story, but you could make it so much more.
I can't wait to see more of your works, keep writing!
~Wolfare
Thank you for your review and I will definitely get on those grammar changes and adding commas and what not!
As for the last bit about her scars being confusing and the "my ratty black case" and the characters not having names...that was all intentional and used for the specific purpose of instilling thought and a different theme into the story. As I mentioned in the author's note the story is not actually about the musician at all, so I didn't want the reader to get connected to the musician or the narrator but think of what's going on between the two (as the two are actually one). I will work on trying to add or hint at that idea in the piece (it needs work obviously) but I thank you again for your insight.
-Bright