By Katherine Boulanger (Free Prompt ~ Free Ebooks)
Hail Mary… The violin tucked beneath my chin prevents me from speaking to any remaining passengers, or to my fellow musicians. Common sense tells me I should run, but I know it won’t do me any good now. Women and children go first. Paid passengers—upper-class folks—go first. There is no room on the lifeboats for a short Catholic man with a violin.
Full of grace… My thoughts drift to the people trapped in the lower decks. I know they will die. The lights are already flickering here. Some of them are dead already, and I wonder how long I have before I too will die.
The Lord is with you; Blessed are you among women… The ship groans and begins to tilt. My fellow musicians cry out; some even stop playing for a moment. I will die. For the first time, I am truly aware of that. My heart races, stabs into me with every ounce of self-preservation I have. But I must keep playing. Even if I must stand on the wall, I must keep playing.
…and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus… The lights are completely out now. It was astonishing, yet horrifying. Sparks flew, frightening what few passengers were left, then all too suddenly—darkness. A few bassists whisper, but spoken words make no sense to me now. Even if they told me I could flee, I would not understand them. I should feel more afraid; I should be terrified. I am going to die. My fiancé will never say her vows with me. My poor parents will be devastated. I will never play this melody again. But I am like those lights. My sparks are used up. Ha! Ha! The great unsinkable beast will carry me to my death, and I will be entombed with my violin at my chest. Yes, the unsinkable beast will drown me inside her great, extravagant gut!
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death… It seems like an eternity has passed, but the room is finally filling with water. I will not be able to play much longer. I am numb, but I feel the fear radiating from my fellow musicians. How strange, I have realized that I do not know any of them. I do not remember even their names. The water is up to my waist now. Soon… I draw out my final notes; I no longer hear anyone’s music but my own.
…Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death… I am no longer afraid. I don’t want to die, but I am ready. The water reaches my chest. I wonder if people will remember me, if they will think I am a fool for playing. The water is up to my neck; I will freeze or I will drown. I draw out my last note in an eternal fermata as the ocean closes over my head.
Amen.
Author Note: The prompt for this story was taken from 642 Things to Write About, a book that was given to me by my dear friend, Claire.
Prompt: “The orchestra on the Titanic famously kept playing as the ship went down. Describe the sinking of the Titanic from the point of view of the musicians playing in the ballroom—from their interactions to the sights, sounds, and sensations they experience as the ship sinks” (San Francisco Writers’ Grotto).
Hail Mary… The violin tucked beneath my chin prevents me from speaking to any remaining passengers, or to my fellow musicians. Common sense tells me I should run, but I know it won’t do me any good now. Women and children go first. Paid passengers—upper-class folks—go first. There is no room on the lifeboats for a short Catholic man with a violin.
Full of grace… My thoughts drift to the people trapped in the lower decks. I know they will die. The lights are already flickering here. Some of them are dead already, and I wonder how long I have before I too will die.
The Lord is with you; Blessed are you among women… The ship groans and begins to tilt. My fellow musicians cry out; some even stop playing for a moment. I will die. For the first time, I am truly aware of that. My heart races, stabs into me with every ounce of self-preservation I have. But I must keep playing. Even if I must stand on the wall, I must keep playing.
…and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus… The lights are completely out now. It was astonishing, yet horrifying. Sparks flew, frightening what few passengers were left, then all too suddenly—darkness. A few bassists whisper, but spoken words make no sense to me now. Even if they told me I could flee, I would not understand them. I should feel more afraid; I should be terrified. I am going to die. My fiancé will never say her vows with me. My poor parents will be devastated. I will never play this melody again. But I am like those lights. My sparks are used up. Ha! Ha! The great unsinkable beast will carry me to my death, and I will be entombed with my violin at my chest. Yes, the unsinkable beast will drown me inside her great, extravagant gut!
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death… It seems like an eternity has passed, but the room is finally filling with water. I will not be able to play much longer. I am numb, but I feel the fear radiating from my fellow musicians. How strange, I have realized that I do not know any of them. I do not remember even their names. The water is up to my waist now. Soon… I draw out my final notes; I no longer hear anyone’s music but my own.
…Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death… I am no longer afraid. I don’t want to die, but I am ready. The water reaches my chest. I wonder if people will remember me, if they will think I am a fool for playing. The water is up to my neck; I will freeze or I will drown. I draw out my last note in an eternal fermata as the ocean closes over my head.
Amen.
Author Note: The prompt for this story was taken from 642 Things to Write About, a book that was given to me by my dear friend, Claire.
Prompt: “The orchestra on the Titanic famously kept playing as the ship went down. Describe the sinking of the Titanic from the point of view of the musicians playing in the ballroom—from their interactions to the sights, sounds, and sensations they experience as the ship sinks” (San Francisco Writers’ Grotto).