Tuesday, October 30, 2012


He strummed a simple chord, testing the guitar. It vibrated smoothly in his hands, a sonorous D minor floating out of the guitar hole. He strummed again, harder this time, catching every string in a simple up-down pattern. The walls quaked in time with the music, knocking picture frames and clocks onto the ground. He strummed again, up and down and up and down, flowing from D to A to G, not caring if there was sense to his melody, only revelling in the power of the guitar. The world shook, buildings fell and societies collapsed, and, as his fingers settled over D, he prepared himself for the end, satisfied that it would sound fantastic.

1 comment:

  1. As I read this, I am reminded of the Bard's words: "It is a tale

    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

    Signifying nothing."