After a Hiatus of Fifty-Three Years, Marietta Finds Purpose in Her Life Once More
by Sally Curtis
When Marietta used to play for the London Symphony Orchestra, before the upset that left her with a cracked scaphoid that never realigned because he said she was fussing over nothing and so didn’t go to the hospital to have it set; before she could no longer produce a solid staccato to play Wieniawski’s Polonaise Brillante; before stepping down from soloist to first violinist to second and then dismissed; before clicking the clasp on the case, the Roth entombed against a velvet shroud, her days had purpose.
When Marietta hears the scrape of horsehair across steel, sees her great-grand-
daughter, cobwebbed and dusty, cross-legged on the floor, the Roth’s bout on her lap,
she takes both to the conservatory.
“Let me show you.”
Cradling the violin beneath her chin, her wrist aches but Marietta draws the
bow across the strings as if never separated, and plays for a new future.
Sally is a burnt-out teacher who wants to be a full-time writer. She has been published on-line and in paper anthologies with micros, flashes, and short stories. After a break from micros, she is once again enjoying the challenge of creating tiny stories.
This story won 2nd Prize in the June 24 Monthly Micro Competition.
Lovely, sad, poignant and hopeful. So glad you wrote and shared this, Sally. And congratulations.