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SHORTSMerlyn’s Pen New Libraryof Young Adult [email protected]
MaestroI am Karl Shultz. I am the greatest maestro of theviolin Germany has ever seen. I don't mean tosound pretentious. I state only the truth.
I am not wealthy. I am forced to live in anabandoned warehouse in West Berlin. I alsoperform here, for I have no money to rent a musichall.
My instrument is as my abode. I long for aStradivarius, though I am forced to perform with acheap British violin. Even this instrument was pro-cured by illegal means, though I regret it dearly.
Tonight I will perform as I have never per-formed before. Tonight will be my hundredthperformance.
Until then . . .I now stand on my personal stage. I take bow in
hand while my audience looks on. I begin to play.The music pours from my heart, my hands,
and the violin. My music is so grand that the angelsthemselves pale in comparison. Yet my audience isemotionless still.
I reach the climax of my concert, investingevery ounce of my being in the music. My audienceremains tranquil.
I end my performance with a glorious arrange-ment of Brahms' Violin Concerto, Opus 77, inD-major, which I have revised for a one-manperformance. I bow and proudly display myinstrument. And no one, not a soul, applauds.
My spirits, which once were soaring, nowplummet. I fall to my knees and shed a manlytear. But all at once, my head clears and I under-stand. I rise, take a deep breath, and feel at peacewith myself. I remember . . .
This performance is a farce. I know it when Ilook into my audience. Their eyes are dull andsightless. Their wigs hang askew on their plasterheads. Their magnificent clothes, once proudlydisplayed in store windows, are now tatteredrags.
In this fleeting moment of sanity, I under-stand everything. I am my audience. My onlyaudience. But I also understand that this
endless cycle will repeat itself until I performmy thousandth concert instead of my hun-dredth. And all because . . . because myaudience loves me.
Joseph Ganakos,Ninth grade, Mowat Jr. High School,Panama City, Florida