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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.

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