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A silence filled the room.
Silence, the sound of nothing, the music of oblivion, the singing of a mute.
Nothing penetrated its black cloud.
But then, suddenly, someone walked in.
Dressed in ragged clothes, a man tramped in. He looked around, long hair swaying.
"There you are." he murmured.
His stare was fixed on a piano in the cornor, dusty and out of tune.
"Lets see if we can get you back up and running." he said, stroking the top, having walked over.
He took out a cloth, spit on it, and rubbed the wood.
"Oh yes, oh yes, we'll get you up and running, won't we?" he said.
After spit-shining the whole instrument, he opened the lid to reveal a row of shiny white keys, along with some dark black keys.
He took out a new cloth, and polished these. Keys could not be spat on.
As he worked on the piano, time seemed to stand still. All that mattered was this instrument.
Then, as suddenly as the man had appeared, it was finished.
"Now, let's see what you've got in you."
He played his favourite piece, "Spell it out to me baby.", and as he played, the silence was banished from it's domain.
The music seemed to shout "Get out of here!"
The tune was very loud, and thought it would see if the people outside liked it, so it streamed out the old, worn window, and started to entertain.
People liked it, and wanted to see where this delightful sound came from.
They looked around, peering in cars with stereos, and asking did others know. Somehow, they seemed to love this simple song.
Among these, was a accomplished musician, and even his piece's weren't reacted to as much as this was.
For this reason, he esspecially wanted to find who was playing.
He joined the search, looking everywhere, and suddenly, he heared an old voice singing to the song. He followed this, and came to a warehouse.
"Why would someone be playing in a place like this?" he wondered, and opened the doors.
In side, he saw an old tramp, dressed in rags playing and singing.
"You!" He shouted.
The music kept playing.
"Hello, I would like to talk to you!" the man yelled.
The music was unhalting.
In frustration, he marched over and screamed in the tramp's ear:
"STOP PLAYING!"
Only then, did the music stop.
"Thats very rude, you know, not to stop when someone asks."
"Well, it was very rude to snuff out that songs life." The tramp said calmly, although his voice had a hint of steel to it.
"How dare you speak to me like that, I'll have you know that-"
"Save it, I don't care."
"Well you better start!"
"Why, may I ask?" the tramp said, getting annoyed.
"Well, b-because I'm....."
"See, you don't even care anymore."
Then, the man proceeded to sit down and play again, until someone would end this song's life, the "Minuett".
"Who are you?" said the musician.
"I'm me, but some call me Shanty......"
I'll write another, but I'm just throwing this one out there.
I don't think it's too great.
Silence, the sound of nothing, the music of oblivion, the singing of a mute.
Nothing penetrated its black cloud.
But then, suddenly, someone walked in.
Dressed in ragged clothes, a man tramped in. He looked around, long hair swaying.
"There you are." he murmured.
His stare was fixed on a piano in the cornor, dusty and out of tune.
"Lets see if we can get you back up and running." he said, stroking the top, having walked over.
He took out a cloth, spit on it, and rubbed the wood.
"Oh yes, oh yes, we'll get you up and running, won't we?" he said.
After spit-shining the whole instrument, he opened the lid to reveal a row of shiny white keys, along with some dark black keys.
He took out a new cloth, and polished these. Keys could not be spat on.
As he worked on the piano, time seemed to stand still. All that mattered was this instrument.
Then, as suddenly as the man had appeared, it was finished.
"Now, let's see what you've got in you."
He played his favourite piece, "Spell it out to me baby.", and as he played, the silence was banished from it's domain.
The music seemed to shout "Get out of here!"
The tune was very loud, and thought it would see if the people outside liked it, so it streamed out the old, worn window, and started to entertain.
People liked it, and wanted to see where this delightful sound came from.
They looked around, peering in cars with stereos, and asking did others know. Somehow, they seemed to love this simple song.
Among these, was a accomplished musician, and even his piece's weren't reacted to as much as this was.
For this reason, he esspecially wanted to find who was playing.
He joined the search, looking everywhere, and suddenly, he heared an old voice singing to the song. He followed this, and came to a warehouse.
"Why would someone be playing in a place like this?" he wondered, and opened the doors.
In side, he saw an old tramp, dressed in rags playing and singing.
"You!" He shouted.
The music kept playing.
"Hello, I would like to talk to you!" the man yelled.
The music was unhalting.
In frustration, he marched over and screamed in the tramp's ear:
"STOP PLAYING!"
Only then, did the music stop.
"Thats very rude, you know, not to stop when someone asks."
"Well, it was very rude to snuff out that songs life." The tramp said calmly, although his voice had a hint of steel to it.
"How dare you speak to me like that, I'll have you know that-"
"Save it, I don't care."
"Well you better start!"
"Why, may I ask?" the tramp said, getting annoyed.
"Well, b-because I'm....."
"See, you don't even care anymore."
Then, the man proceeded to sit down and play again, until someone would end this song's life, the "Minuett".
"Who are you?" said the musician.
"I'm me, but some call me Shanty......"
I'll write another, but I'm just throwing this one out there.
I don't think it's too great.
It was going somewhere then it just ended without a decent ending. Not bad though. Some good moments. And the theme "music" was used well.
No comments? No? Okay then.
*Whistles*
*Whistles*
A silence filled the room.
Silence, the sound of nothing, the music of oblivion, the singing of a mute.
Nothing penetrated its black cloud.
But then, suddenly, someone walked in.
Dressed in ragged clothes, a man tramped in. He looked around, long hair swaying.
"There you are." he murmured.
His stare was fixed on a piano in the cornor, dusty and out of tune.
"Lets see if we can get you back up and running." he said, stroking the top, having walked over.
He took out a cloth, spit on it, and rubbed the wood.
"Oh yes, oh yes, we'll get you up and running, won't we?" he said.
After spit-shining the whole instrument, he opened the lid to reveal a row of shiny white keys, along with some dark black keys.
He took out a new cloth, and polished these. Keys could not be spat on.
As he worked on the piano, time seemed to stand still. All that mattered was this instrument.
Then, as suddenly as the man had appeared, it was finished.
"Now, let's see what you've got in you."
He played his favourite piece, "Spell it out to me baby.", and as he played, the silence was banished from it's domain.
The music seemed to shout "Get out of here!"
The tune was very loud, and thought it would see if the people outside liked it, so it streamed out the old, worn window, and started to entertain.
People liked it, and wanted to see where this delightful sound came from.
They looked around, peering in cars with stereos, and asking did others know. Somehow, they seemed to love this simple song.
Among these, was a accomplished musician, and even his piece's weren't reacted to as much as this was.
For this reason, he esspecially wanted to find who was playing.
He joined the search, looking everywhere, and suddenly, he heared an old voice singing to the song. He followed this, and came to a warehouse.
"Why would someone be playing in a place like this?" he wondered, and opened the doors.
In side, he saw an old tramp, dressed in rags playing and singing.
"You!" He shouted.
The music kept playing.
"Hello, I would like to talk to you!" the man yelled.
The music was unhalting.
In frustration, he marched over and screamed in the tramp's ear:
"STOP PLAYING!"
Only then, did the music stop.
"Thats very rude, you know, not to stop when someone asks."
"Well, it was very rude to snuff out that songs life." The tramp said calmly, although his voice had a hint of steel to it.
"How dare you speak to me like that, I'll have you know that-"
"Save it, I don't care."
"Well you better start!"
"Why, may I ask?" the tramp said, getting annoyed.
"Well, b-because I'm....."
"See, you don't even care anymore."
Then, the man proceeded to sit down and play again, until someone would end this song's life, the "Minuett".
"Who are you?" said the musician.
"I'm me, but some call me Shanty......"
I'll write another, but I'm just throwing this one out there.
I don't think it's too great.
Silence, the sound of nothing, the music of oblivion, the singing of a mute.
Nothing penetrated its black cloud.
But then, suddenly, someone walked in.
Dressed in ragged clothes, a man tramped in. He looked around, long hair swaying.
"There you are." he murmured.
His stare was fixed on a piano in the cornor, dusty and out of tune.
"Lets see if we can get you back up and running." he said, stroking the top, having walked over.
He took out a cloth, spit on it, and rubbed the wood.
"Oh yes, oh yes, we'll get you up and running, won't we?" he said.
After spit-shining the whole instrument, he opened the lid to reveal a row of shiny white keys, along with some dark black keys.
He took out a new cloth, and polished these. Keys could not be spat on.
As he worked on the piano, time seemed to stand still. All that mattered was this instrument.
Then, as suddenly as the man had appeared, it was finished.
"Now, let's see what you've got in you."
He played his favourite piece, "Spell it out to me baby.", and as he played, the silence was banished from it's domain.
The music seemed to shout "Get out of here!"
The tune was very loud, and thought it would see if the people outside liked it, so it streamed out the old, worn window, and started to entertain.
People liked it, and wanted to see where this delightful sound came from.
They looked around, peering in cars with stereos, and asking did others know. Somehow, they seemed to love this simple song.
Among these, was a accomplished musician, and even his piece's weren't reacted to as much as this was.
For this reason, he esspecially wanted to find who was playing.
He joined the search, looking everywhere, and suddenly, he heared an old voice singing to the song. He followed this, and came to a warehouse.
"Why would someone be playing in a place like this?" he wondered, and opened the doors.
In side, he saw an old tramp, dressed in rags playing and singing.
"You!" He shouted.
The music kept playing.
"Hello, I would like to talk to you!" the man yelled.
The music was unhalting.
In frustration, he marched over and screamed in the tramp's ear:
"STOP PLAYING!"
Only then, did the music stop.
"Thats very rude, you know, not to stop when someone asks."
"Well, it was very rude to snuff out that songs life." The tramp said calmly, although his voice had a hint of steel to it.
"How dare you speak to me like that, I'll have you know that-"
"Save it, I don't care."
"Well you better start!"
"Why, may I ask?" the tramp said, getting annoyed.
"Well, b-because I'm....."
"See, you don't even care anymore."
Then, the man proceeded to sit down and play again, until someone would end this song's life, the "Minuett".
"Who are you?" said the musician.
"I'm me, but some call me Shanty......"
I'll write another, but I'm just throwing this one out there.
I don't think it's too great.