My story for English....

[englishrose]

Can you guess who it's about? Just thought I'd share. And, if you've got any feedback, that would be lovely

 

 

He sits at his desk, brow furrowed. He squints at the page in front of him, trying to make sense of the words he knows he must read before tomorrow, but the letters wiggle and dance like black ants. He sighs. Why can’t he read? Every other ten-year-old can. His mind wanders—although he wishes it wouldn’t, it replays his day at school.

“Fatty!” They sang gleefully, skipping around him in a circle. “Michael’s got curves like a girl’s!”

“Learned how to write your name yet, Michael?”

He pushes his chair back, and goes to stand in front of the mirror. He looks bleakly at his reflection, tugs at his clothes, wishing desperately that they would hide his awkward weight. He hurries back to the desk as he hears footsteps approaching, blinking back the tears that threaten his eyelids.

His mother pokes her head through the doorway and, seeing him hunched over his school book, is satisfied and walks away again. He stares at the paper for a few minutes longer, then gives up and slumps over on to the desk. There’s no point in trying; he’ll get nothing achieved. His parents no longer accept his pleas to read aloud to him his assignments, although sometimes one of his siblings will take pity on him. Generally, though, they have better things to do.

From the living room, he can hear the tinkling sounds of his sister Yasmine playing Chopin. He peeks ‘round the doorframe to watch her. He is entranced by the movement of her fingers over the keys—what beautiful noise they are making! He smiles blissfully as he soaks up the melody. His mother looks up from her newspaper.

“Michael,” she warns. He sighs, and goes back to his desk. This time, he makes no attempt at studying. Instead, he listens. Eventually, the piece comes to a glorious close.

He has always wanted to take music lessons, yet his parents think it would be futile because he could never read the music. Tonight, however, more than any night, he wants to play, to tap into that world and to make it his own. He waits for a little while: it’s getting late, they should be making their way off to bed. Sure enough, he soon hears the rustles and murmurs of his family packing up and heading upstairs for the night. Just a little longer…

The second the noises fade, he darts out of his bedroom and seats himself on the piano stool. The sheet music that Yasmine was reading means nothing to him; it just wriggles on the page as words do. He folds it away and looks down at the black-and-white keys. He is slightly daunted, as he has never tried this before, but he knows he wants to, more than anything. Gingerly, he raises a finger and brings it down softly. The note that comes back at him is crystal clear. He plays a few more, familiarising himself with how the notes are laid out. After a moment’s pause, he plays two at the same time…and all of a sudden, there are words, tumbling out of a previously locked closet in his mind, down into his throat and out of his mouth into the air. Not only are there words, there is a tune as well, a wonderful spontaneous melody. He is singing, his young pure voice dips and soars like an angel’s.

He stays up all night. The piano slowly becomes tame to his inexperienced fingers, and his voice dances joyously along with it. All the things he has wanted to say—rants, raves, stories—they have all found their place in song.

His homework lies on his desk, forgotten.

[englishrose]

Anyone?

[kittie88]

I really like this story, I love the imagery you have used and the personification. One of my favourite lines has to be "The piano slowly becomes tame to his inexperienced fingers, and his voice dances joyously along with it." I love the images it conjures up!

Great work!

[nico_collard]

That's really good!!!

 

 

 

I like it!

[Sarah_loves_mika]

Oooh! It's great!

 

A*!!!