Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Sad (07/26/07)
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TITLE: Frank | Previous Challenge Entry
By Stephen Watkins
08/01/07 -
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He arrived in a wheel chair, having just been released from the hospital where they had treated him for a broken hip. We had been forewarned that he was very much an introvert, and that he had been living alone most of his life.
“Hello Frank,” I said greeting him at the entrance.
“Yup,” he replied flatly without bothering to make eye contact. I moved him into his room, and then gave him the tour of the building and the grounds. I did most of the talking. Frank seemed content to just nod his head.
“Any questions?” I asked upon returning him to his room.
“Nope”, Frank replied.
“Ok then, I’ll let you get settled in,” I said, then turned and walked out closing the door behind me.
I would see Frank at meal times and sometimes sitting in the television room. For the most part though, he was pretty unremarkable and I had to almost force myself to notice him. Then one day as I was walking down the hall, I heard the most beautiful music. I followed it to Franks door, and as I stood and listened I realized it was he playing a guitar. He was amazingly good. He was a perfectionist though and would stop every time he made a mistake, cuss, and then start over again. Only he would have known the difference, it sounded perfect to me. I continued on my rounds.
This is the place you come to at the end of your life. The place you come to, to die. I always try to keep the “clients” upbeat and cheerful, but lets face it, they all know this is the place you check into but don’t check out of. I ran into Frank in the hall a few days later and complimented him on his playing.
“Uh thanks, I guess,” he replied.
“I play a little violin, maybe we could practice together sometime?” I asked not really expecting him to agree.
“Sure,” he answered.
“Ah, ok when would be good for you?”
“Just stop in anytime, I’m always here,” he replied with a smirk, as he wheeled himself away. It was the most I had ever heard him speak and the first time he had ever shown any kind of emotion.
A few days later I stopped by his room after my shift. I knocked on the door and after what seemed an interminable amount of time it finally opened.
“Oh, it’s you,” Frank said.
“I brought my violin, I thought we could…”
“Yea, yea sure, come on in,” and he wheeled himself over and picked up his guitar. Immediately he started doing riffs and scales, his fingers moving effortlessly up and down the neck of the guitar. I must have had a look of astonishment.
“What’s the matter with you?” He asked, suddenly looking up at me standing there.
“Ah nothing Frank, It’s just you’re very good, actually you are great!”
“I haven’t even started yet, I’m just warming up.” And he wasn’t kidding. He “warmed up” for a few more minutes and I sat down and just watched and listened. He then broke into playing like I had never heard before or since. It was incredible stuff, the stuff of greatness.
“Frank that was beautiful, where did you learn to play like that?”
“No place, self taught I guess you could say.”
“Amazing. What was that song you were playing?”
“It doesn’t have a name, none of my songs do, I just play them, I don’t name them.”
“You mean you made those songs up?”
“Yup, been playin’ since I was 12, so I’ve got a few by now. Can’t read music, so I have to keep playin’ them so I don’t forget them.”
“Has anyone else heard you play?” I asked. He stopped and thought for a moment.
“Not really, not since I was young anyway.” I was astounded. Here was this great talent and no one even knew he existed. I had to do something.
“Would you mind if I recorded you?” I asked.
“If you want to, be my guest.” I was so excited that I excused myself and told Frank I would be back the next night to record.
When I came in to work the next morning I learned that Frank had passed away in the night. No one came to claim his body.
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I wish you had begun with your second paragraph, and not telegraphed the ending. A few minor punctuation edits would give this piece additional sparkle.
I appreciated your narrator's compassion.