The Broken Violin

Shadows in the Night

The blond-haired head on the blue-cased pillow looked as if it belonged to a boy of twelve. He wasn’t. He was fourteen, but his dreams made him appear much younger—and vulnerable. He lay on his side, head turning slightly and lips forming silent words as he dreamed, long lashes motionless upon his cheeks. The bed covers shifted in response to dream-driven arm and hand movements. The covers toward the foot of the bed never moved. The dream held him in its clutches and refused his every plea for release.

He sat in a park, his best friend at his side. Music stands holding manuscripts written in their hands stand before them on a table. A wrought-iron fence, with flowing tracery reminds him of a fairy tale kingdom every time he sits in this place. The fence splits a ribbon of well-kept grass down the middle, separating their perch from a quiet neighborhood street. Another street meets the one beside them just a hundred feet beyond their seats, the intersection forming a T against the park’s side. Despite the nearby streets, this is a quiet place; few cars ever pass this spot.

Evening’s glow surrounds them. The clear sky shades from orange through green, while deepest blue blends into purple and indigo far above their heads. Street lights click on and brighten slowly. They can barely see the music in the dim light; reading the notes is nearly impossible, yet the cool breeze and gorgeous early spring weather render both of them loath to leave and close this perfect end to a perfect day.

“Let’s play one more,” Tony smiles.

“I know the one you want. The third verse describes this moment so perfectly—even if it’s evening instead of morning.”

“Let’s play it.”

They lift bows to strings, beginning their personal arrangement—a violin duet—of a song by The Carpenters recorded years before either of them was born. The Carpenters weren’t known for haunting melody—yet this one floated on the air, swirling about as only a ghost might. Written by Richard Carpenter and John Bettis, it wasn’t a huge hit for the brother/sister team, yet the song endured.

The violins made beautiful harmony; they should, after all, because they were twin instruments especially made for these boys. He marveled over how playing something as familiar and common as a pop music title still drew forth the beauty inherent in his and Tony’s violins. Playing any music with Tony brought indescribable joy. In some unknown way, the music joined their souls together. They always played as one, without conscious thought. He let the music take over and fill him to overflowing.

Evening chill wrought magic on the humid springtime air. Mist and vapor congealed, wreathing about the boys as poignant melody spread from their violins. Fog appeared, drifting across the ground, completing the fairytale atmosphere, enhancing the duet.

The song’s words fit this place perfectly. He always thought of this park as a fairytale forest, for it had that feel. The tree trunks were straight and often mist-shrouded. Limbs sprouted far overhead, stretching a new-green leafy canopy above the park surrounding them. One never knew what might appear out of the shadows. He hoped so many times for something straight out of a fairy tale; in fact, the music that he and Tony wrote while sitting here often embodied those characteristics. This evening was the epitome of all their previous experiences. An anticipatory air gathered the growing mists, wrapping the boys in a close and exciting blanket, pushing their performance beyond mere skill into the realm of art. He slowly turned his head and met Tony’s eyes. They smiled together, connected as they played in a way only God would understand.

Roaring engine, screech of tires against pavement, scream of rending metal.

Third verse shattered.

Timeless. Forever.