My Own Cello



Dear Diary,
Another day goes by and my heart still yearns for the tender touch of acceptance. I heard its sorrowful sound and was powerless to sooth its cry. I was called upon its dark nature to immerse my senses in its passionate expression, yet, a tone of powerful calm held my faculties with blissful attention.

Today I almost touched it. I nearly held a cello in my arms, but I was afraid to disturb its perfect image in my mind with a note of reality that might have destroyed our unspoken mutual expectations. The grand cello I love plays for me with perfect clarity and I listen, I appreciate, I dream.

I long to wield an instrument that could sing through mournful sounds with peaceful and reassuring notes that become a pleasant melody. I want to be the one who brings an unexpected baritone hero out of the background of a bass ensemble that is mostly unnoticed, but instead, I listen, I appreciate, I dream.

Tomorrow perhaps, I will have the courage to approach it, to introduce myself, to surrender my fears in its unconditional acceptance of my desires; but in turn, I will have to detach myself from the perfect balance between its current master and their melodic relationship that captivates my attention.

Today, today I long for my own cello.


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Daily Prompt:

Strike a Chord
Do you play an instrument? Is there a musical instrument whose sound you find particularly pleasing? Tell us a story about your experience or relationship with an instrument of your choice.


What Lurks Behind a Children’s Tale.

And there she was, having a most glorious battle with her demons, sitting at the desk trying to write her thoughts while fighting a tempestuous storm that raged inside her mind. A tangle of sounds prompted her mind to shoot out a non ending stream of violent images which did not help to quell the deep seeded murderous thoughts that lurked in her heart. She’s supposed to finish writing the last of her children’s book series and all she wanted to do was pound on the little savages with a sledge hammer in a live version of Whack a Mole.

For their part, as children go, all was well in their world and they continued to terrorize the household despite the many interventions and protestations from Grandma Cate. Of course, from a child’s point of view the boys were merely doing band practice while the girls were rehearsing cheers for tomorrow’s homecoming game.

If you wonder who in their right mind would allow such racket to exist if they were trying to concentrate on writing a children’s tale, you wouldn’t suspect that it was the source of Emilia’s inspiration. A contradiction in feelings always brought out the best of her delicate, charming and amusing tales. The darker the thoughts, the brighter the words and so it was for Emilia Brightheart.

As America’s most beloved children’s author, no one ever thought she would be capable of an evil thought, but Emilia’s stories were based on the happy go lucky tales she imagined her victims had before she tortured and killed them in her mind and having a most glorious battle with her thoughts, there she was, quelling her impulses with ferocious strikes on every letter of her keyboard.



Written by Margarita Morgan
September 12, 2014


Daily Prompt:

From the Top
Today, write about any topic you feel like — but you must reuse your opening line (at least) two more times in the course of your post.