This is an old work of mine, which I once translated (from various reasons). I made it for a writing contest with the theme of "senses" (for another forum and in my native language). I usually come here to check on the RM games, but I saw the writing section and thought: interesting, here is a chance to check out my English... so here it is (I'm not sure about the spoiler habits in this forum, but this piece is quite - extremely- short, like most\almost all of my works, so it should be fine):
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Beethoven
He was listening to the melody which was coming from the other room. The orchestra was playing, producing these strong, determined tones, unforgiving to any man who will not take them seriously.
Such music, it is a tune which starts from the highest of the notes, a thin and feeble sound. Such music is the one which sinks to the depths and at the same time rises to the real sounds which express most beautifully the amazing spirit of mankind, knowing its true intentness.
Such music did he love.
It is also this music which will be taken from him, so said the doctor. In one of these days, maybe even today, then, his love will be lost.
But he shouldn't worry himself, continued the doctor, it might be a mistake, a hope still existed for him.
He lied. His left ear already couldn’t perceive the silent tones of the flutes that dance on their way to the hearts of human beings. In his right ear, even the thunderous sound of the violin was gone.
He wanted to say goodbye, a last farewell to his sense of hearing, forever. In his room, alone, he took his violin, beginning to play despite the weakening sounds. At first, a desperate melody came, one of pain and sorrow, but slowly did the sound become stronger and stronger, thus, able to split the sky which was his own soul.
He played. He played for himself, producing those strong sounds which he loved so much, sound which slowly disappeared from his ears while he kept playing. His violin thundered in the sound which for him was heaven, where the silence would be hell. He heard that devil from hell approaching him, coming from behind to cover his ears, take his precious sense away.
Then, a tear fell on the violin's string; it flowed across, then, stopped a little, as if hesitating whether to cross the sounding board. It continued to move along the soft wood which the violin was made of, advancing slowly to the inevitable fall, to its end.
And that was the last sound.
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I remember I tried to stray away from my old habit of "surprise" endings which, to be frank, I quite detest. I believe you can feel this tendency from the very beginning (just add the word "Beethoven" to "senses" ^^). In my opinion, it is quite unprofessional for a writer to rely on a "boom" in the end of a piece, also "twists" should be dealt with carefully as well... Still, this is an easily breakable rule (and not always for the worst). Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beethoven
He was listening to the melody which was coming from the other room. The orchestra was playing, producing these strong, determined tones, unforgiving to any man who will not take them seriously.
Such music, it is a tune which starts from the highest of the notes, a thin and feeble sound. Such music is the one which sinks to the depths and at the same time rises to the real sounds which express most beautifully the amazing spirit of mankind, knowing its true intentness.
Such music did he love.
It is also this music which will be taken from him, so said the doctor. In one of these days, maybe even today, then, his love will be lost.
But he shouldn't worry himself, continued the doctor, it might be a mistake, a hope still existed for him.
He lied. His left ear already couldn’t perceive the silent tones of the flutes that dance on their way to the hearts of human beings. In his right ear, even the thunderous sound of the violin was gone.
He wanted to say goodbye, a last farewell to his sense of hearing, forever. In his room, alone, he took his violin, beginning to play despite the weakening sounds. At first, a desperate melody came, one of pain and sorrow, but slowly did the sound become stronger and stronger, thus, able to split the sky which was his own soul.
He played. He played for himself, producing those strong sounds which he loved so much, sound which slowly disappeared from his ears while he kept playing. His violin thundered in the sound which for him was heaven, where the silence would be hell. He heard that devil from hell approaching him, coming from behind to cover his ears, take his precious sense away.
Then, a tear fell on the violin's string; it flowed across, then, stopped a little, as if hesitating whether to cross the sounding board. It continued to move along the soft wood which the violin was made of, advancing slowly to the inevitable fall, to its end.
And that was the last sound.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember I tried to stray away from my old habit of "surprise" endings which, to be frank, I quite detest. I believe you can feel this tendency from the very beginning (just add the word "Beethoven" to "senses" ^^). In my opinion, it is quite unprofessional for a writer to rely on a "boom" in the end of a piece, also "twists" should be dealt with carefully as well... Still, this is an easily breakable rule (and not always for the worst). Enjoy.