Failed stories form me not knowing where to go next

The room was dark when she first saw it. It was beet up and old, but she wanted really badly. only 7 years of age it stood taller then her, and wider, but she had to have it. "Please, Please mom bye it please!" she begged. Moments later they sit down and listen to the auctioneer auction off a few pieces that were donated. The first vase goes for 4 dolors. The auction goes on and continues to get bugger items. Two items away and she whispers in her mom's ear pleadingly, "I'll pay for it if you get it now. I'll do all the dishes for a year please, please!" Her mother tiered of hearing this says ok. moments later after the French Horn was sold for 300 the piece she wans comes on. made of rosewood with wonderful feathering. Solid brass toners and Jagger strings, a real beauty. Her mom bids for the starting price of 50 and that is what it goes for. it is brout down the isle to there row and handed to them. An hour later the auction ended and people were leaving, lights were raised. Up close now in her hands she sees dents and discolorations, chips in the neck and a taped together bridge. The base was heavy, almost too heavy to lift. She is still excited. she lodes up her mother's station wagon with a few vases and plated then carefully puts in her new instrument.

That week was hard on her. She has never seen so much work even of she is only in 2nd grade. She was struggling in school. she could not spell and was always off in space her teachers tell her parents. She does have a natural gift of being able to copy anything like it was her own. That weekend she was tiered, But still found the time to look at her new instrument. Looking over every inch of it and its beautiful wood. looking at its stings slowly plucking each one as it lay in the floor. looking in its openings along ether side of the old bridge she saw something like a signature, but it was really faded. bringing out her flashlight she lights up the inside. She made a copy of the signature on a piece of paper. She sets the paper aside and starts to tune it to her dad's electric tuner. it was in really bad shape tunign wise. It took her a while but in the end she got it. then she set aside the instrument and looked at the bow. The bow was in wonderful condition the rosewood looks almost the same as the instrument. The hairs on the bow were not in good condition sadly. she picked up a few sort sheet music for the bass the next day with her parents songs such as Marry Had a Little Lamb and the Itsy Bitsy Spider. She could not get any more because she needed to have her bow re-haired, but sadly she or her parents did not have the money to do so. after a few weeks she mastered the songs and got bored of the instrument so she put it in her closet where it sat.

10 years later she came across it in the back of her closit.




It was a normal summer evening, nothing strange, and nothing particularly interesting.