A Hand Me Down Journey

         1. His hands effortlessly grazed across the strings of the guitar, plucking out chords of melancholy.

There was a look on his face both careless and intent. He’d closed his eyes, his hands would do his

seeing now. A small crowd began to gather around, unintentionally swaying with the melody like palm

trees in the wind. A couple people tossed small coins into the case at his feet and you could hear the

light, clinging as they piled. He paid no attention to the whispers, cash or camera flashes, consumed with

his passions.

2. The guitar sat in the corner of the living room, gathering dust like the decorative plates in the vanity beside it. Pictures spattered the walls of a time when things here were much different. Framed moments of a man playing what has now become an antique and a family gathered around in what one could best describe as a cherished memory. All now gathering dust on pink wallpapered walls and doily lined tables. An elderly woman sits alone, humming slowly what may have once been a lively song, instead now crackling out of her throat in short shaky breaths. “Bye, bye miss american pie”, she mumbles, coughing up the last couple words. She hums until the song ends and lulls herself into a final sleep. 

3. Shrieks ran through the halls as two pairs of little feet barreled down the stairs with enough velocity to make the house shake. They hurtled the living room couch and raced circles around the kitchen counter until one faulty step brought little hands and a thick skull smacking into the tile floor. The old guitar fell out of her grip and went flying into the pantry door, the neck snapped with a sick splintering sound. The pursuer, a red headed young lady, stood frozen, unsure of which or the broken creatures to aid first. She turned over her bawling little sister who had suffered nothing more than a bonked head and bruised palms. Red curls crowned her face as it slowly twisted from a look of fear into hot rage. She gripped the front of her little sister's nightgown in white fists before letting go, stepping over her body like a puddle and sinking into the ruins of the guitar. Her little sister whimpered and then silenced as she watched in horror, the red hair pooling over the cradled heap of wood and strings, the girl looking just as broken as the instrument in front of her.