Fire

It's the only thing that keeps me going, my violin is...

Every since Daddy taught me to play when I was five... That was before he started skipping around with other women, before the night Daddy never came back, before Mammy became one of those woman that let people skip around on 'em.

I feel those memories play out through my hands, shifting positions and arcing my bow. It was the only way I kept my past from crushing me, like it did to Daddy and Mammy...

It keeps me alive. Makes a bit of cash for me on the side, gets me my Ramen fix for the day. Ha! Ramen! The stuff you love to hate when you have to eat it 'most every day. Just another sign to show ya how God punishes those who ain't rich.

No way I'm ever gonna be rich, either. Nobody'd hire me, and nobody's ever gonna. My violin... good enough for folks on the street who enjoy it for free and don't give me nothing for it, but good enough to play in one of them fancy concert halls? Never! Wouldn't do to have some dirty, old, smelly, grimy, pile of walking putrescence playing in there!

I stop playing as suddenly as I started, and that's when I first notice her standin' there, some chick with a camera. I make it a point to hide the case and all, not distinguishin' myself from any other hobo in the city, just curling into a ball, huddlin' for some warmth. I ain't gonna let some dame with her fancy camera make free money outa me!

As she stays there, watchin' me like no one else watches stupid hobos on the street, I just wish she'd go away, leave me be, and let me get back up and start playing again, 'cuz I feel the demons rising in my chest, the bad memories past coming for the final kill, and soon, there ain't no way I'm gonna be able to fend 'em off, not even with my violin.

The End

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