Empowerment. Engagement. Authenticity.
Inspiration in Writing - Pulling Strings
Reflected candlelight wavered in red wine tipped
into crystal glasses, skimmed off silverware, china and the folds of a
white linen tablecloth. The air in the dining room was scented with dewy
roses and the lemon-dill crusted salmon Celia knew he liked.
The buzzer rang and a rill of anticipation ran through her. “Come on
up,” she sang into the speaker, then dashed into the bedroom.
Colin rode the elevator to Celia’s tenth floor apartment with a sense of
calm purpose. Her text to him earlier had said they needed to talk, that
he should come over to her place after work. It had been an amazing day,
he thought with a grin. On Monday, he would be the manager of his
department, a long-awaited, well-deserved promotion. Finally, he could
buy a condo, a new car, a cabin somewhere warm to spend the winters. and
he would have the gorgeous Jessica by his side.
“Cee-Cee?” he called as he entered the apartment and locked the door.
She never remembered to do that, he sighed. Stepping into the dining
room, he saw the candles, the wine, the roses. Shit, he grimaced, calm
evaporating like mist. Shit, shit, shit.
Celia sashayed out of the bedroom, all tousled hair and rippling silk,
playing “Groovy Kind of Love” on the violin. He’d given her that violin
months ago because she loved music and wanted to learn how to play. She
already played the piano like a maestro.
Celia sank to her knees at his feet. “My sweet Colin,” she murmured,
looking up at him from beneath fluttering lashes. “Will you marry me?”
Colin’s mouth opened and closed in mute shock. Then he gave into his
trembling limbs and crumpled beside her. “Oh, Celia…when you said we
needed to talk, I…I thought…I’m sorry, this isn’t going to work. I’ve
met someone else.”
The violin thumped to the floor as Celia sprang to her feet. The
contents of a wine glass splashed into Colin’s face as the other glass
was hurled at the wall to leave red spatter over a framed photo of them
at Kits Beach. Crystal and china shattered with a vicious yank of linen.
Celia snuffed out the teetering candles with a hiss.
“I did everything for you!” she sobbed.
“It’s time you did something for yourself,” Colin said, stumbling to his
feet.
The eyes she turned on him were pure ice. “Yes.” She picked up the
violin from the floor, ran speculative fingers over the strings.
“Perhaps I could get some good money for this.”
(c) Kristy Kassie, 2016
Inspiration in Writing
As an exercise in looking for inspiration when
writing, we were told to look through the classifieds and write a story
about why an item was being sold. I found a violin for sale and wrote
the story above.
