Short story: Oboe solo for two players

/ Claire Fuller

david-stewart

The sound of the oboe carries through the evening, a melancholic invitation to come now. He has told his mother that he must be in the bandstand; something about fresh air and breathing technique. His mother likes that he is practicing.

At the first note, gliding in through her open window, she stirs and tells her mother she’s going to the meadow with the old portable gramophone, to dance. Her mother likes that her daughter is imaginative.

At the bandstand, in the dusk, she winds up the gramophone. And while Bach’s Partita for solo oboe plays out into the night, they practice, together.

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This is a 100-word(ish) story for Friday Fictioneers brought to us by the wonderful writer Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and the picture this week is supplied by the fantastic writer, David Stewart. Click here to join in with Friday Fictioneers, or here to read other people’s.

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Until Sunday readers in the US can win a signed copy of the UK version (left) of my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days; and readers in the UK can win a signed copy of the US version (right). The competition is running on Twitter and Facebook. Click the links and follow the instructions to enter. Good luck!

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64 thoughts on “Short story: Oboe solo for two players”

  4. This really is beautiful, though I confess to needing several readings to follow the sequence of events. Nicely done, as always.

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  5. Can see some folk thinking, eh? But I’m there…not watching, no, there with your idea. Sad thing is nowadays this pair would just talk on Skype and go to the pub.

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  13. Dear Claire,

    From the very first sentence I was lost in the night with you and your two music lovers. I read it four times because of the way it sounded, flowing sweetly and mysteriously and carrying me away. So beautiful to be transported by your words.

    Aloha,

    Doug

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  20. Ooh . . . Well, they say practice makes perfect. This is a perfect snippet of suggestive material, the sort that leaves me wanting more. Nicely handled, Claire.

    All my best,
    Marie Gail

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  29. That kind of meeting went out with the gramophone. There would probably be a curfew these days, but it’s sweet to look back at small towns with so little crime to worry about. Doors weren’t even locked in some places. Well done as always, Claire.

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