Heartstrings

This story is by Rock Martin and was part of our 2024 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

My world was a dark place.  That familiar dread, desolate and lonely, gnawing at the insides of my stomach, hollowing it out inch by inch. It was always there, towering like giant redwoods.  It’s imposing shadows reaching out, twisted and mangled, like crooked roots boring into the lifeless soil, devouring any resources and crowding out competing thoughts.

I wiped my slick hands down my jeans as I breathed through the knot that was tightening in my stomach. I knew this place well.  I knew how little light penetrated the tall stands and how quickly my breath condensed in the frigid air.  I knew the moist dirt, that earthy smell.  And I knew the howls in the distance.

The joyful chatter of my classmates pulled me back as Weston Middle School came into view.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and marched in, keeping my eyes down.  Throngs of students casually exchanged pleasantries as I pushed through and found my classmates in the eighth-grade wing. For a moment I watched, each huddled mass engrossed in deep conversation, their lips flapping at breakneck speed.

I pushed on, reached homeroom, and slipped into my desk just as the gossip reached my ears.

A talent contest.

In two weeks.

Kevin and Stephanie were engaged in heated babble.

“You gonna sign up?” Stephanie asked, the lightness of her words sparkled at the edges.

“I don’t know,” He laughed, shrugging. “Yeah, maybe.”

I watched as the conversation continued, waiting for an opening, while other students filtered in.

The bell was about to ring.

“I’ll do it,” I said, the words tumbling out.

Silence.

“I said, I’ll do it,” I repeated, nervous I wasn’t loud enough, ignoring the rock in my stomach.

Kevin shot me a sideways glance.  “Doing what, acting like a weirdo?”

Laughter erupted throughout the room.

“The gui-guitar,” I murmured.

Kevin stared at me.  One eyebrow rose but he offered nothing.

My lips trembled.  “I’ll, um, play the guitar.”

“You?” Kevin asked, his eyes widening. “You can’t even stand and talk in front of the class, how—”

“Ok,” Stephanie interrupted, her lips curling into a knowing smile.  “I’ll sign you up.”

She winked and whipped around in her seat.

My heart pounded wildly, and my gut twisted, but I couldn’t help the small twitch at the corner of my lips.

The day passed quickly.

3:00

The bell.

I gathered my books and dashed into the hallway.  I turned the corner and collided with Stephanie as a squeak of surprise escaped my mouth.  I reached out, books tumbling to the floor, trying to find something to stop my momentum.

“I, sorry, uh, hey Stephanie.”

I quickly backed up and stooped down to grab my books.

She kneeled closer to me.  “Hey Liam.”

I froze and looked up.

She smiled and helped me gather my things.

I swallowed and tried to keep everything where it needed to be.

“I’m excited that you’re doing the talent contest.  I think you’ll do great,” She finished.

“We’ll see, well, I mean, I don’t know.”

“I never knew you played the guitar,” Her soft melodic voice lifted slightly at the end.

“I, uh, I play by myself,” I offered, standing and holding my books against my chest.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear it,” She grinned, before spinning and joining her friends.

I floated down the hall, watching her and her friends slip out the door.  As I turned the next corner, something latched onto my arm and swung me back against the wall.

Kevin’s beady eyes and pimpled face were suddenly too close to mine.  I felt my eyes widen as the fear pumped through me.

His hands wrapped around the collar of my shirt as he forced me into a corner.

“Liam Murphy!”  He called loudly through the hallway.  “Liam Murphy!”

Curious faces gathered, then the laughter started, echoing and building through the space.  Their twisted gazes towered and bent, peaking at the freak in the corner.

Kevin’s words faded and blurred as I buried my head in my arms.

It wasn’t always like this.  I had friends.  I was normal.  When all that mattered was having fun.

But then everything changed.

My room became my best friend and music my escape.  I found an old hand-me-down guitar and started playing.   I struggled through those first few notes, but soon a new world opened.  A brighter place.

The regular beats of the metronome, the melodies, the chords, they broke through the tall stands, through the thick clouds, and let in the radiant sunlight.  The soft forest floor burst into life around me, covered with colorful flowers and deep green undergrowth.

I played for hours, focusing on the beautiful and complex melodies I created, and soon it became every night, for hours.  I played as long and hard as I could.  It became my superpower.

My hands loosened and my head rose as the school grew quiet.

The hallway was empty, the spectacle now over.

I took a few steps towards the door but stopped, looking back at the quiet hallway. The blue lockers, paint peeling from years of abuse, sat quietly, resting, preparing for whatever maltreatments they would witness tomorrow.

My eyes narrowed, and my fists tightened.

It wouldn’t be me anymore.

I leapt through the front door of the school, raced down the road, turning the corner just as Stephanie was starting up her front steps.

“Stephanie!”  I called, panting.

“Liam?”

“I’m doing it!  The talent contest,” I stood heaving, feeling this moment stretch and grow inside me.

“Great!” She answered with some confusion, but I heard the smile in her words.

A wide grin grew across her face.  “You’ll be great,” She turned and went inside, not before looking back a final time.

I bolted home, my feet barely touching the sidewalk, and threw open the door, letting it slam behind me.  My feet thumped up the stairs as I flew to my room.

I snatched the guitar, my fingers sailed up and down its neck, gliding back and forth over frets as I picked and strummed.  The sweet melodies filled the room, then escaped out the window toward the blue sky, carrying me with them.

Two weeks would pass quickly.

————

The auditorium and backstage area were already buzzing when I got there.  A tap on my shoulder had me stiffening and looking up carefully.  Stephanie’s comfortable smile greeted me, and I couldn’t hold back one in return.

“Good luck today,” She gushed.

“Thanks.”

“Liam Murphy.  Number 19,” Announced an organizer.

“Wow, 19 people?” I said.

“Stephanie Biggs, 20.  Good luck everyone.”

My head snapped up as she smiled.

“You’ll be great.  I’ll talk to you after,” She said, before sneaking away.

I paced in circles, palms sweaty.  The contestants took their turns, one by one.  There was a juggler.  A dancer.  Even some kid doing pushups.

Contestant 18 was finishing up, and I was on deck.

Deep breath.

The curtains opened, unleashing a blast of blinding lights.

I stumbled my way on stage and heard the microphone crash to the floor.

Laughter erupted as I scrambled to put the stage back together.

The howls grew louder.  The voices that were always there, just beyond the dark trees.  My feet sank into the soft dirt, a familiar chill descending over me.  But there, just ahead, a few faint rays of light penetrated the tall canopy, one of them hitting the grainy soil. Just enough for a small flower to emerge.

I pulled my face close to the tiny pedals and met its steely glare.

“Let em have it!”  It proclaimed with a fierceness that echoed and vibrated through me.

My shoulders straightened, and my gaze met the horde.

My fingers wrapped around my guitar and the world around me faded, my focus narrowing to the weight in my hand, the familiar strings.  The first notes sprung forward, dancing through the auditorium.  Raw, frayed fingertips slid through the notes with ease, stepping through chord after chord with familiar precision.  My eyes closed as the song continued, and I let the music take me where it would, knowing that not even my dark forest could touch me here.

With each note, my world grew brighter, livelier, and everything around me bent and shook in my grasp.  I slammed the last note, letting it float and spread, echoing and pulsing until the very end.

Then there was nothing.  Slowly, I opened my eyes and found a sea of stunned faces dressed with raised eyebrows and dropped jaws staring at me.

I wanted to punch my fist in the air in triumph.  But instead, I smiled and bowed, even though this moment wasn’t for them.

The shocked silence exploded, the freckled crowd erupting in thunderous applause.

My smile widened.

I caught Stephanie clapping from the corner of my eye, beaming as she held her own guitar.  I looked over, basking in her light, and winked.