This short story was written for our January writer's group assignment. The only parameters that we set for each other was to begin the story with 'Once upon a time...' and end it with '...they lived happily ever after.'
The Concert
Once upon a time there was a young boy and a young girl who lived next door to each other at the end of a cul-de-sac. They should have been fast friends but they were definitely not. The cul-de-sac was quiet with manicured lawns and graceful trees. Every morning, each family swept their sidewalks and tidied their porches. When all was done, they met under a giant oak tree in the middle of the cul-de-sac with their tea and their coffee. On some days, especially in the summer when the sun was shining, the wind had breezed off into the city canyons and all the workers had gone to work these very orderly residents were treated to a concert. Not a real concert but the beautiful sounds of classical music drifting from the house at the top of the cul-de-sac. The young boy, tall for his age, with his long, dark curly locks and dressed all in black, was practicing his piano. His dream was to be a concert pianist and his grand piano of gleaming white set the stage for fulfilling such a dream. On such a day, he threw his patio windows wide and leaned into his music forgetting all about the world outside. Everyone, that is except one person, revelled in this concert, and a hush fell. Songbirds stopped twittering. Crows settled on fence posts to keep an eye on the gathering. Any errant breeze held its breath. Gossipy conversation beneath the tree ended. It was always a magical moment.
The one person who hated, absolutely hated, this calmness. This, this genteel, gauzy,… stupid …….she never had enough words to describe her feelings for this whole crazy 'thing'! One summer morning, when she heard ‘The Concert’ mesmerizing all of her neighbours, the young girl stamped her feet. She clenched her fists at her sides to stop from breaking something. She was about to race out the front door and scream at them all to stop. But then she had an wicked idea and the young girl loved wicked ideas. Taking the stairs two at a time to get to her bedroom, she had things to do. First, she checked herself in the mirror to be certain her hair was just perfect, her clothes were just perfect and her shoes were just perfect. From the corner of her room, she gathered up the item that would complete this wicked plan. Everything was ready. The young girl tiptoed out the front door. Quietly she sat on a stool she kept on the front porch and waited for the young boy to reach a pause, his hands gracefully lifted from the keyboard for only a moment.
The neighbours were horrified! Coffee cups and tea cups dropped in mid sip! Heads spun around to see the source of the offending noise. Crows crowed disdain and annoyance. The wind gusted in with a vengeance. The young girl, her shocking pink and very spiked hair, her torn jeans and military jacket in proper disarray and her army boots scuffed and worn, had crashed with her own vengeance from the front porch with her scratched and worn electric guitar!!! Da-Da-Da Daaaa! Da-Da-Da Daaaa! And then her fingers moved with blinding speed over the strings, drowning out any more piano music from her next door neighbour. The young boy came suddenly to his open window ready to scream at the young girl to just stop! Suddenly he vanished from the window. He waited for a pause in the music. Da-Da-Da Daaaa! Da-Da-Da Daaaa! His fingers flew through Beethoven's 5th Symphony, a piece he knew well. Once more a hush fell. The birds stopped twittering. The errant gust of wind went off to the next street. The crows in their shiny black suits just strutted up and down, heads bobbing in time, wings flapping with each beat of the music..
When the last notes of this magnificent symphony flew off into the grand oak tree gracing the cul-de-sac, silence was all that could be heard. The young boy stepped out on his patio and the young girl stood tall on her porch. The smiled at each other, then at their audience and bowed. Stepping out onto the clean swept sidewalk, hand in hand, they smiled and bowed once more. The audience jumped to their feet and applauded wildly. Songbirds flitted, fluttered and twittered. The wind returned not as breeze or a gust but as a banner that heralded a grand moment in time. Crows soared up to the tallest fence to bow and bob to the young musicians. The simplicity of such a random melding of minds stunned everyone. And so all the residents of Grand View Cul-de-Sac, especially the young boy and the young girl, lived happily ever after.
“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here!”
~ J.K.Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
Author's note: Edited February 28, 2024
Intelligence and intuition has shaped our country, but was driven by the vision of many Canadians - some before Canada was born. I feel quite inadequate to write this review, but feel that The Promise of Canada by Charlotte Gray is an important piece of literature. From the vision and collaboration of George-Étienne Cartier and John A. MacDonald, the establishment of a federal police force in the Northwest Mounted Police, and the development of our provinces, Charlotte Gray only begins to show us that there has been so much more to the creation of the country that it is today. Simplicity has not been a watch word for all that has been accomplished. Literature and Canadian culture has been introduced and developed by artists such as Emily Carr and Margaret Atwood, along with publishing houses within our own borders. Universal medical care was created with the push by Tommy Douglas in Saskatchewan. Women’s Rights and Indigenous Rights have been discussed and debated and are hard won. Bertha Wilson was the first woman on the Supreme Court and Elijah Harper of the Red Sucker Lake First Nation said ‘no’ to the Meech Lake Accord and stood firm against his opponents in the Manitoba Legislature when he said ‘Our relationship with Canada is a national disgrace’. Charlotte Gray has peered beneath all the names and dates, and with her very astute researchers eye, has gleaned names and details that do not make the news. And still this is only a beginning.
