The Musicians - Alden Lee Panic [Me]

A violinist was awoken by the sound of barking dog's. Groggily, he dragged himself out of bed to look out the window. Barely daylight. He looked down and saw a man walk up to his door, then leave after placing a piece of paper in the violinist's mail slot. The man walked down a couple blocks to do the same thing to other houses. What is he doing? The violinist asked in his head as he shuffled down the stairs. He picked up an envelope from his front entrance and peered inside. What the note had read left him sliding down the wall, crying silently to himself.

The next morning, a guitarist woke up so happily. Oblivious to his future, he danced to the kitchen. A delightful tune trapped in his head that he had come up with only two days ago. He whistled it out as he prepared breakfast; a fluffy home made waffle. The smells tickled his nose, adding sweet cinnamon. He enjoyed the taste just as much as it's aroma.

When he had finished the dishes, he toddled up the stairs to get ready for the rest of his day. He had gotten dressed and flipped on his fedora hat. Grabbing his guitar, he was ready to seize the day, and there before him was an envelope. Unfazed, he set the case down to see what was inside this envelope. He immediately had all his happiness, his energy drained away into a cold void of reality.

In an office, downtown, the violinist sat next to the guitarist. They both were musicians of equal greatness, of the same tastes. Both were being drafted to fight in the war. But neither were about to give up their musical interest's, or their instruments. The captain thought he understood their intention's "It's probably wise to bring those along to keep sane in the barracks"

The two virtuoso's sat next to one another again on the train. The violinist told his new friend about his life, how he began to play at thirteen. How he had loved his family very much. His dad went off into sea, but never came back. The funeral was on a bright sunny day near by the lighthouse, for the wreckage was discovered weeks later.

The guitarist explained how he was an orphan, and never knew his real parent's. He did, how ever, remember how much he wished he could meet them, had they never of disappeared. He began playing at sixteen when he first found that guitar in a pawn shop. He never stopped ever since. He apologized to no one, and recently fell in love with this woman he met at the park. He was going to reply to her letter the other day, but now she will find him awfully rude, for he can't even write back.

Weeks went by. The sound of bombs and gunshots were always around. And they were sent out to fight again. But against the commanding officers will, they turned back to the barracks to get their instruments. The violinist looked at his comrade "If the idea of war is to die like a dog for your country like nothing else matter's, then I don't want to get on the same train as the rest of our fellow soldiers" the guitarist grimly nodded and got his guitar.

Quietly, they walked back into the blazing war Field. A shell had taken out a chunk of the army the minute they arrived. Both had opened their cases, caught in the crossfire. "We will die playing, and not fade to a memory" the guitarist said "We will not die a coward with a rifle" the violist replied.

And so they played their final lament, a perfect requiem. Nothing else existed. Only an endless sea of black. Not even when they were shot did they stop. Not even when an explosion let loose near by did they flinch. Not even when the sergeant called them back did they open their eye's. And it was indeed their last and first song together.

No one knows what it sound's like anymore. No one even knew it was composed. But if you were too tread on that field where the blitzkrieg was won by the enemy, you could almost hear it on the wind, the duo's last song.