don't touch the violin 
 

     I could see the edge my grandfather's shiny  black violin case laying way up on top of the upright piano. I couldn't reach the top of the piano from a standing position on the floor. I had been told never to touch it, but for the first time in my seven years of life, I was alone in the house and. It was a strange feeling  not having anyone around.  

     No one would ever know, I told myself.  I'll just look at it's shiny rust-red wood, with those dark strange "s" shaped openings and it's black wood neck ending in those fancy swirls with all those knobs. 

     I used to stand beside the piano watching my grandfather give my brothers their weekly violin lessons, but as much as I wanted lessons like my brothers, I was told by my grandfather that I was too young. 

     I looked round the room disbelieving that I was alone, checked for possible ghosts that may be watching but couldn't see, hear or feel any.  I climbed up onto the piano bench, stood up, reached out and grabbed the violin case, lifting it into the air, I turned round looked and listened for a moment. I couldn't see or  hear any unusual sounds. 

     I didn't want to climb all the way down, put the violin case down on the piano bench, open it, and suddenly hear someone coming  -  I wouldn't be able to close the  box and put it back before they caught me. I couldn't open the case and leave it on top of the piano because,  I had to stand in front of the piano keyboard and lean foreword over the keyboard to reach the top. 

     Cradling the violin case in one arm, I  opened the snap latches with my free hand. I then opened the case to see the shiny rust red violin. I looked toward the front door, listened carefully but I could not see nor hear anyone coming.  I decided that maybe I did have time to take a closer look so, I started to step down from the piano bench to the floor. It's like stepping off a chair onto the floor. For a seven year old of average height that's a big step.  The violin case began to slip as I lost my balance  - I couldn't grab the violin as I was falling in one direction and it was going in the other  and as though having a life of it's own, it separated into two parts the violin going in one direction and the case in the other. 

     A second after I hit the floor I heard a strange combination of violin sounds meshed together into a death cry. For a moment it's squeals  sounded to me like  it was trying to tell everyone what I had done. Forgetting about my own pain I listened like a  hawk still no sound of anyone coming, my luck was holding.  
 

     I picked my sore bones off the floor and went quickly to the violin. It's neck had been broken from it's thin wooden body. Strings  were contorted into a  tangle,  I quickly and nervously picked up the pieces and stuffed them into the violin case, which was now it's coffin.  I then quickly returned the violin to it's place of honor on tip of the upright piano - only this time I pushed the violin case back further making it less noticeable. 

     I climbed down and waited quietly for someone to come home.  It was a long time before anyone came so I had lots of time for my imagination to run wild and run wild it did. 

     Not wanting my act to be discovered was upmost in my mind so much so that I had successfully convinced myself that a barrage of painful punishments would be the  result from my act. I terrorized myself to such a degree that  I ended up wishning my grandfather would die. Mind you I had never been spanked, I liked my grandfather, he was great with me but somehow my fear put this idea into my head.  

     As an adult I would come to learn that it is our fears that turn mole hills into mountains. I was still a child and fear was my master. 

     After what seemed like days, but was only about an hour,  I heard noise coming from the front door.  I sat quietly waiting and thinking too much. I could tell by the sounds that it was my grandmother. She came into the room stood in silence for a few moments, then sat down beside me, put her arm around me and in a very serious voice said that she had something very sad to tell me.  I said nothing. She then told me that my grandfather had died. 

     I don't know what my grandmother thought of my response to her message, as I just sat quietly saying nothing.  I was shocked, and as I sat very quietly beside my grandmother,  a little voice inside  my head said, "I didn't mean to kill him with my thoughts".