kasparwit

"Vhy ei eeffen bossah... nohbotee noh." Francis talks to himself in the small workshop on Pepper St. Between the McCoffees and the empty, fluorescent light lit cellphone showroom.
THe workshop has a candy store in front, that smells like pinesol and bubblegum. Sometimes more like pinesol. Sometimes more like bubble gum. Depending on where you are standing.
Francis's wife hates the smell of bubblegum. She pours a capful of pinecleaner on the floor behind the counter in the candy store and smears it back and forth with the tip of her sneaker.
to be continued...

(ANYONE - PLEASE JUMP IN ON THIS... IF YOU FEEL SO INCLINED. FILL IN THE NEXT PARAGRAPH/ CHAPTER/ WHATEVER AS A REPLY.)

DanTheMan1535

Wow...I am really lost. Are these kinds of posts (just write another chapter to it) common here?

kasparwit

"Wow...I am really lost. Are these kinds of posts (just write another chapter to it) common here?" Someone enters the candy store. Holds up a flier. Lays the flier on the counter in front of Simone.
Simone, the violin maker's wife, shrugs. Closes her mouth. Looks past the man standing in front of her on the other side of the counter. At the door of the violin workshop. Francis does not appear in the window in the door. Simone looks at the paper. Shrugs.
*
"Ven yoo sink onlee zhe end, yoo noh feel zhe nowh. 'Yetzt.'" Francis poises over the shape of a violin in his workshop. Sits on a stool. Uses a lupe to study the grain of the wood in the neck of the violin. Francis traces the contour of the neck of the violin with his thumb. "Ver hat vohl... violine yemaht." I wonder who made this violin.

kasparwit

How do you end up being anything. A teacher. An actor. A violinmaker. Someone who bakes cakes.
Francis sits back on his stool in the workshop in the candystore. Looks straight ahead. At the curls of the woodshavings on his workbench. At the dust collecting in the corner between the lip of the workbench and the grey concrete blocks of the wall.
"...feeleiht," Francis runs his finger accross the smooth but uneven surface of the table. Leaves a mark that starts straight accross from left to right, then curves and drops off the edge of the workbench. "...eet deepehnd vehr yu shtart." It depends where you start.

*************

Simone started in Holland. Even though she was German. Looked French. Started out tall. With hard dark hair. Like an old toothbrush. And white teeth. That showed on her lip. Whenever she smiled slightly. Or even when she tried not to smile.
When her face lost all expression. And she looked past you. At the door. At the other side of the candy store. The door to the workshop. Where Francis was sitting. Thinking about something. Or forgetting. What he was thinking about. Putting down a violin. Getting up to turn the crank on a large vise mounted on the edge of the bench. Sitting back down. Concentrating his will on bits and pieces of something that started out being strips of wood and pieces of metal and glue. And ended up being the conduit between a man or a woman and...
'Knk knk.' Francis looks up from studying the line in the dust on the surface of the workbench. Turns. Simone comes in. "Feyeraben." Time to quit.
"Ach zoh..." Francis smiles. Nods. "Goote naht."

Pawn

I can't compete with the first paragraph posted. Brilliant.

__________________
C.A
Carpe Noctem
superlatenight.com

kasparwit

thank you pawn, for the encouragement. im glad someone finally replied. i have never posted on forums before - im a little uncertain about taboos, courtesy, etc... bear with me all.

i also hope im not weirding anyone out by serializing this story in this somewhat unorthodox fashion - by replying to my own posts...

my most recent profession (barista) dictates that i only have small parcels of time at a time to devote to 'keeping up my chops' during the day, so that after closing i can get in a couple of hours, hopefully, working on longer pieces.

i hope nobody has a problem with me continuing to work on 'The Short Happy Life of Francis the Violin Maker' in this sporadic way.

this is a great place for writers you all have made possible (well, who am i to say...) but anyway, THANKS.

kaspar

blademasterzzz

Dont worry, people respond to their posts all the time here.