A Fiddle's Story

The music’s flow was soft and gentle. It wrapped all the buildings and gardens in its tender cloak. People halted their hurried pace dumbfound as if they by some miraculous guidance were invited to open their eyes to perceive and appreciate the world around them for the very first time. A new, strangely familiar and yet unknown feeling conquered their hearts. In a flash everything acquired a different meaning. Neither the revealing light, nor the impenetrable darkness appeared the same any more. The melodious command challenged everyone to forget all that is wrong in the world. Cruelty and injustice joined in a farewell embrace and vanished in the somber abyss of oblivion. The music unleashed a flood of locked feelings and desires. Just a few more notes and those who were old envisioned the spring of youth and could almost taste the divine elixir; those who were young saw the ever-changing bottomless ocean of wisdom and could almost feel its vapours touching them. Each soul was souring in the limitless sky of imagination. It was as if such kind of happiness was entirely new to them. Everything seemed somewhat magical and real at the same time. It was as if ancient druids and modern technicians joined forces with mystical elves and wise scientists and somehow brought a utopia to the Earth, just a grasp away. Nothing bad existed any more. All was sacred and fabulous.

That happened on one and the same day each year. A fiddler played in a quiet street imagining peace and agreement all over the world. He craved for the salvation of dying children. He prayed for solidarity and compassion. Somehow his music made people realize their mistakes. And a desire to help appeared. The fiddler’s music was his last hope, the confession of his lonely soul. No word could say it clearer. No explanation could be more detailed. No prayer could be heard better. That was the last chance for survival in the cruel and dishonest course of the world. Unfortunately, the music ceased and everything was ALMOST the same until the following year.

This year the sound suddenly stopped its flow in the middle of the melody. Its words remained unsaid and misunderstood. The spring of youth became an unreachable speck; the ocean of wisdom faded and swiftly disappeared. All wondered what had occurred. No one saw the ambulance driving away the body of a frozen homeless fiddler. No one witnessed the sound of his last song. Still, his fiddle was there with him ready to talk, to reveal the soul of a simple man - a real human.