His Evening

The type of evening he is used to having.

He’s humming to himself, that silly boy. Finally, a day went his way. He’s being as ridiculous as he can be, because he knows it makes me laugh.  Dancing and swaying and jumping and bopping along to a beat I don’t hear, he tells me about work, meetings, classes.  I can barely concentrate, I’m laughing so hard.  But it is time for him to work again, and he ends his dance with a bow and a kiss on my forehead. 

He’s in his room again, away from my concerned and prying eyes. The smile he donned just a few moments ago disappears from his deceitful lips.  The piano, as always, is calling his name, and he needs it.  He needs it to comfort him, to tell him that everyone lies and everyone gets scared.  The piano sweetly reminds the poor boy that he could never fail when he plays.  And so he does, his nimble fingers flying across the keys in a fluid, jazzy, bluesy melody.  The open bottle of red wine next to his stool seduces him to take a drink. And then another and another. Soon, sips become swigs, and swigs become gulps.  The pounding on the piano gets louder and more desperate until finally, he feels safe and calm, and somewhat warm.

This is when the keys start to blur together, and it’s now either time to lie down or time to make movies.  In just a few moments, he is out in the chilly night filming a story he understands, but knows no one else will.  He waltzes with his precious camera from spot to spot, entertaining himself in his drunken determination.  Each shot is perfect, not a single second of film wasted. Hours pass, and he doesn’t mind or notice.  But by the end of the night, he has the makings of a film, one he’s proud of.

Reviews

[Cristal Bridges]

This is amazing! I love the fluid motion of this. I can just imagine the music this man is making and the images his camera captures. We as authors, writers, poets, what have you are often like this man when we write. Uninhibited, comforted in the story that we are so artfully making. Involved solely in the picture we are painting upon the blank canvas and the melody we are making. Wonderful piece. :).

[Greg Skura]

A sweet, but somewhat sad story of the people we become when we give in to our addictive personalities. My father was a serious drinker and fortunately not much of a fighter (he did not play or own a piano or make potentially senseless movies) but when the alcohol got a hold of him you never knew what you would get. Thank you for sharing!

[India Brooks]

I could just close my eyes and picture each moment perfectly, you have such a wonderful way with your words that really touches me. Just like what Logan Bonds said, I really do think you've got something worth holding onto!! xx

[Sunflower/Sara Kendrick]

Interesting short story that you have penned in this one..I hope that this is just made up and not about your life..It would be a sad existence for both of these people...Good job on the write..Sunflower

[Ang]

Great story! I love the descriptions of what is going on. I could picture each scene perfectly. I like how you give the guy so many different emotions. It shows how people really are. We can be having fun one minute and then the next, we are serious about our work. I like how the guy also seemed to be in his own little world. I really enjoyed this piece! :)

[Logan]

I like the emotion. The way you worded some things is almost musical. I'm no english major, but I'd say you have something here worth holding on to.

[Talal Tashfeen]

He is lucky he has something which makes him calm. Well written, you describe everything so perfectly and you don't leave out anything at all!

[Demauscian]

I am often ridiculous just to be ridiculous. And I wish I could play the piano...

This window into the ordinary life of this poor boy seems to capture a little spark that is the life so many of us jointly share. And the narrator, a girl who is with this boy, is able to see through his guise to the lost and confused creature that's there.
I wonder if she stays with him because she truly likes him, or simply because she pities him.

I know I've filmed bizarre sequences in the past (only once and I was not drunk). I even edited it and added subtitles. It was pretty good, except no one else thought so. Sadly I deleted it.

I would really love to watch his home movie. I'm sure if it made sense to him then it is worth a try.

So, anyway, good job, good luck... now I'm off to get dinner!

[Ron]

Crikey Abigail, I hope the girls I went out with years age weren't as perceptive as you. I have been so similar to the poor wretch who was trying soooo hard to impress. Perhaps all men are buffoons? Love the curious contempt woven through this, just love it. I just think if this was actually told by the writer to the poor oaf. He would never leave home again and lock himself in forever! Great potential here! Write, write, write, onwards dear girl!