Giving up the art
Author: Ella

Chapter 3
missing song

besides my routine of seeking her shadowed face through the windows of her apartment, and feeling slight irritation that her teacher did not appreciate her songs, i never really saw her outside. she was always in the house, in her room, hiding behind closed doors, playing that sweet sounding instrument. but now i thought about it and the violin was not really a sweet instrument. instead it was kind of agitating to hear it's whining sound. but i never heard, i only saw. it was only in the later years that i had begun to hear.

i continued hearing her beautiful songs and glancing through the windows whenever i got the chance. homework was piling up and i was busier each day. no longer had i the time to watch her anymore, so instead, i tried my best to listen. every time i sat down to face the dryness and complexities of math, i would hum along with her. and i embraced the times my mother was not at home. the heavy wooden door would be wide open and her music would flood the place. she was very generous with her song indeed, yet one evening, i sat down at my wooden table once more, expecting to hear her songs as before, but i heard nothing. not a single hint that the girl next door played a violin. for eight whole years, she had diligently and passionately practised every single day of her life, and now there was not even the slightest sound. i was curious as to why she had suddenly broken the record she had kept for so long. yet as i strained to hear more closely, thinking that i might have missed her sound, i the faintest sigh. then, i heard the light sound of a bow dropping to the floor. i lifted my head from the sea of numbers and ran to the heavy wooden door. flinging it open, i took a few cautious steps out.

there she was, sitting upon the cemented floor. in one hand her shining violin and in the other she loosely held the bow half lying on the ground. her skirt was tucked under her legs and her thin feet lay exposed on the floor beside her.

i walked towards her and put on the friendliest smile. she looked up and gave me a quick smile.

"may i sit?" i asked.

she laughed, "this isn't my property. sit if you don't mind the dirt on the floor."

i managed to force a grin onto my face and asked for her name.

"i'm cyrilla," she said slowly, prounouncing each syllable in perfect tone. "and you?"

"my name's ellia," i replied in one breath. "i was just wondering, why you aren't playing your violin today. you play everyday, so i found it odd no sounds came from your house."

her smile dimmed away and she loosened her grip on the bow, "my teacher's not teaching me anymore, after all those eight years."

"oh. so you miss her. i see. what happened? why isn't she teaching you anymore?'

"i don't miss her! i never loved the violin. and my new teacher's only coming in two weeks time. you'll have one whole week of peace and quiet," she smiled brightly.

i frowned. i had never known cyrilla before, so i could never have expected anything from her. but somehow, i felt a great sense of disappointment when she spoke those words. never loved her violin. how could that be. after all i thought she was. after all these eight years of hard work. i felt the hard work. i saw the passion. and i heard the beautiful outcome. yet all of it was just a dream i made up. the passion that i thought i saw in her was never real. it was never her dream as i dreamt it to be. but at that point in time, little did i know that the dream i made up for her, was actually what i had been longing for since the day i first saw her putting in great effort for something i thought she loved.


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