Strange, Richard thought with sobering expression while the three laughing siblings tumbled towards a quaint country cottage Strange, but happy. 'No! No, Dick, we're coming back for you!' 'Don't wait for me!' Dick wheezed in his child's voice, oblivious to Richard's presence. Little Dick Merriweather: an awkward, nine-year-old boy with an overactive imagination, strange. Well, look at me, Richard thought, smirking slightly as he watched his winded childhood self stagger forward. 'Dick, come on, the Tree Witch is right behind you! Run!' a little boy in ill-fitting overalls hollered, nearly out of breath as he dashed after his sister.įollowing the children's lead, Richard turned around.ĭick, the oldest and slowest of the three siblings, stumbled out into the open from behind an old fig tree. 'Run! Dick, hurry, hurry, run!' a little girl in a tattered cotton dress screamed, darting past him. Pleased, the White Violin and its bow leapt into the air and, gently, the bow settled upon one of the four strings.Īs the music swelled in beauty and intensity, Richard found himself hurtling through space and time, back, back into an abandoned era.Ĭhildren.three children, running through a dusty barley field, laughing. The Violin bowed turned, and was promptly joined by its bow.

The White Violin began hobbling out onto the stage. Shyly, a white violin peeked out from behind the black curtain. In the dark, the audience held its breath, waiting.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' the deep, disembodied voice began, cutting through the shadows, 'it is my distinct pleasure to announce the one and only White Violin!' The woman nodded and, resigned, turned her attention to the stage as, little by little, the concert hall dimmed into darkness. Richard turned his attention towards the vacant stage. 'Oh, well,' the woman laughed uncomfortably, smoothing her exquisite forest-green opera dress, 'I didn't mean to bother you, but.I was just wondering.How did you come across your ticket?' One of those lonely, desperate old maids with too much money and no social skills, he reckoned. 'Yes?' Richard replied irritably, addressing the young blonde woman beside him. Hearing the chatter die around him, Richard made his way to the nearest vacant seat. 'Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats,' a deep, disembodied voice boomed, reverberating off the barren walls of the Paradiso Music Hall.

Let the White Violin reveal worlds beloved and forgotten scrutinized his vintage letterpress ticket: In the midst of the bustling crowd, Richard Merriweather, Esq.

The white violin