Author's notes: I guess someone could find this story sad and maybe a bit disturbing, but personally I think it's a happy story with a positive teaching. I don't know, you decide for yourselves. Does include death-related subjects, but no swearing, sex, violence, suggestive themes, drug usage or anything else, so it's basically okay for everyone.
On another note: HAH! I made it this time! I managed to write this for the March Writing Challenge!
Yeah, so, the prompts were green, spring and insanity. I included them all, because that's the sort of thing I do. Please, do enjoy the outcome.
It was spring when Kendal found out that she was, in fact, dying. She hadn't even lived for three full decades yet, and still she was dying. It was only at this point that the concept of death really opened to her. There she had been, thinking that she wouldn't die for another fifty years, during which she had all the time she needed to get married, have children, become famous and then, after an idefinite amount of time, die surrounded by her loved ones and achievements.
But lookie, that's not what actually happened. She was in her twenties, diagnosed with a genetic heart disease that would probably kill her in about six months. That wasn't even enough time to get pregnant and give birth to her offspring before she passed on. Maybe it was even better that way, considering that her disease was of the hereditary sort. That's what she tried to tell herself, anyway. Of course she didn't buy her own lies. Dying young sucked, and she knew that.
The fact it was spring when she found out about it was very soothing to her. Every time she felt excessively depressed about how little time she had left, she could go outside and walk in the park. Everything was green around her, flowers were blooming, and birds were singing as they frantically tried to find a mate for that year. Children were in the park, playing with their parents, and she could also see young couples kissing and cuddling. She was so surrounded with life that the thought of dying just didn't fit in her world anymore. She didn't believe it, and forgot about the whole thing. She wasn't the type to feel envious of other people's lives. Instead, she simply refused to believe what was true. It was only temporary, though. Every time she went back home, the reality was there to greet her with a wide grin.
That's probably also why she kind of snapped.
Thinking that she hadn't achieved anything, she decided to really get her name known before she was going to die. She begun to think of different ways to become famous or leave something behind her. She made a list of all kinds of things she had ever wanted to do and then began to eliminate choices that were impossible for her now.
She couldn't have any children, since she didn't have enough time. Also, they wouldn't really be her children if she didn't raise them herself, right? So, that was the first thing to get off the list. No children for her. Nobody to continue her legacy. Well, that was all right, she thought. Bad genes shouldn't be carried on. She moved to the next thing on the list.
Win a Nobel Prize. Huh. That seemed kind of difficult, seeing as she hadn't even gone close to a university since she graduated. Also, she had studied music, and there were no Nobels given out in music as far as she knew. Winning a Nobel had been her dream when she was still in high school and decided to become a microbiologist. It was, however, was a bit too hard for her, so she switched her major pretty soon. She had studied history to get at least some sort of diploma to show off to in her future job interviews. In the end, it had become quite in handy, since she got a well-paid job in the local museum. Not that she had enjoyed working there a lot, but it paid well and wasn't all that boring. She made a note to quit her job as soon as possible. Maybe they'd let her go without the two-week notice, since she was, after all, dying. The Nobel prize, however, was off the list.
Writing a book was something she had always wanted to do, but it looked like she didn't have enough time to do that, either. Of course, she could have written a book in the little time she had, but the proofreading, rewriting and the whole publishing process would have been too long for her to see the book in the stores. Most likely it wouldn't even get published, since Kendal wasn't all that skilled with words. She had always thought that she had time and there was no rush to start writing before she could think of a good story. Now it was already too late. She sighed and crossed it out of her list.
There was one thing left. She had been the violist for a professional orchestra for several years now. She had played the viola since she was seven years old, but she had never been particularly skilled with it. She had studied in an univeristy and got her degree as a professional musician, because she really loved music, but she had never thought of becoming a soloist. Nobody had expected much from her playing, so she had been happy to have gotten in the orcestra. She had, however, always dreamed about playing the solo part of a certain piece: Bartok's Viola Concerto. She head heard the concerto when she had been only ten years old and decided that some day she would be good enough to play the solo part. She wasn't a bad violist, so she thought it might be possible for her now, if she only had the time to practice.
She had quit her job in an office a few days ago, as she felt it was stupid to waste her time there if she was going to die soon, so she had all the time she could possibly need.
This might very well be the thing she was supposed to do with the time she had left.
She immediately picked up the phone and called the director of her orchestra.
"Hello, Mr. Bauer," she greeted him. "This is Kendal Blake calling."
"Ah, Kendal! How are you?" he answered happily. From his tone, Kendall presumed that he hadn't heard of her illness just yet.
"I have a request to make," Kendall started nervously. "You see, I have always dreamed of doing Bartok's Viola Concerto. Could we play that this summer?"
"I guess we could, if we find a proper soloist..." Mr. Bauer replied, sounding a bit confused.
Kendall took a deep breath. "You see, I would like to be the soloist. I believe I can manage it if I practice hard for a while."
"Kendall, are you out of your mind? You don't even play the solos of our current viola parts..." Mr. Bauer began, still with the confused tone.
"Out of my mind?" Kendall repeated. "I guess I am a bit out of my mind, really. But I have an excuse. Mr. Bauer, I'm dying."
"You're... dying?" Mr. Bauer's voice sounded like he believed he was getting fooled.
"Yes. The doctors gave me six months of lifetime at maximum."
Mr. Bauer was silent for a long time. "Are you for real, Kendal?"
"Yes I am, Mr. Bauer."
There was another long silence. "I want to fulfill your wish, but I have to talk to our conductor and some other people first. Also, if you want to do this... We will hold an audition for you. If you can't do it, then you can't do it."
"Are you sure?" Kendal was overjoyed.
"I'm not promising anything."
Kendal thanked him and they ended the call. For a brief moment, Kendal sat in her room and didn't do anything. She didn't even think anything besides "it might really happen". Then, she jumped up, grabbed her purse and ran out of her apartment. She would go and buy the sheet music for Bartok's Viola Concerto. She would start practicing right away. She would make it happen.
So she started practicing. She began taking private lessons from her old university teacher to become better. In order to afford this, she withdrew her savings from her bank account. After all, what good would her savings do when she was already dead and didn't even have a heir? She ate expensive and good food every day along with plenty of sweets and delicacies. She went to her orchestra's rehearsals and to the weekly subscription concerts and she slept well every night, because her heart disease made her pretty exhausted. All the time she didn't spend on doing any of the aforementioned activities, she spent on practicing the viola concerto. She didn't care what time of day it was, she played all the time she only could - much to her neighbour's dismay. She was completely absorbed in her playing, even to the extenct of forgetting to take her heart medication sometimes. This was something her mother would later loundly scold her for.
A month later, her death seemed even more inevitable and close than it had been. She was given less time by the doctors, as well as stronger medication. They discussed about possible tratments with her mother, but she couldn't be bothered to listen. She was too nervous about not managing to play the piece before her death to be bothered to postpone the said death. As said, she had gone a bit out of her mind, but she didn't care about that. Not that it would have done any good anyway, since the only treatment would have been a new heart, and it wasn't easy to find heart donators.
Kendal's mother was left to discuss with the doctors while Kendal went on living her life with no actual fear of death. She had completely accepted the fact that she was going to die. Sometimes she even went as far as to be happy about it, because otherwise she would never have gotten the chance to play her favourite piece with an actual orchestra. With every passing day, she was a bit more insane. She played and played her viola until her fingers were sore.
Then came the day for her audition. She had to prove that she was good enough, that she could do it without ruining the orchestra's reputation. They had already agreed that her concert would definitely bring in spectators, since it was the concert to fulfill her dying wish. It was the ultimate publicity stunt, except for the fact there was no script and that it wasn't professional advertisement psychologists behind the idea but a simple, average violist. That day, she went in front of the jury who would be the ones deciding whether she died happy or not. She stood in front of them and started playing.
The world disappeared around her as she concentrated. This was what she lived for now. If she couldn't do it, she couldn't do anything. She played, pouring all her feelings into her music and enchanting herself into a kind of hypnosis. She didn't stop playing until Mr. Bauer's voice penetrated her consciousness. "Kendal Blake! Can you hear me? Stop playing already!"
She stopped and looked at the jury, very confused. "Already? Didn't you like it?"
"We liked it," said one of the ladies watching her. She smiled, and Kendal could faintly remember seeing her before somewhere. "You can do the concerto, Miss Blake."
Kendal sat on the floor and started crying. She was so happy. Her dream would come true and she could really, truely die happy. People would hear her name before she died. She wouldn't die as an unknown, young office worker. She would die as a musician. She was so happy she felt like laughing and prancing around, but the tears wouldn't stop and her heart was acting up on her. She sat there and cried while the orchestra's conductor crouched next to her and comforted her.
Seeing as her dream would now actually become true, Kendal spent even more time playing her viola. She decided she would die as a good musician rather than an average one. When she played, her music should shoot arrows to her listeners' hearts and move them, make them cry and smile, feel whatever Kendal's viola commanded them to feel. This was her ideal image, and she worked hard to achieve it. She still took the lessons from her teacher and ate even better food. Every day she ate something she loved, because that way she was more content and could play better.
One day, on her way home from her lesson, she saw an exceptionally beautiful dress on a shop's window. It was a green dress, which would look good with her eyes, and it had just the kind of hem Kendal liked the most. She walked in to the store and asked about the dress. It was a unique dress made of silk, so it was more expensive than Kendal's monthly rent. The old Kendal would have frowned at the price and left the store to save the money instead, but the new Kendal was dying. So, the new Kendal tried the dress on, asked the shop's clerk to do the needed adjustions to it and then bought it. When she went home, she had the dress she would wear for her concert. She was very happy about it. She was very happy about everything.
Weeks passed and her friends stopped calling her because she never wanted to talk to them. She had cut herself off of their lives to ease the hit of her death when it came. She also done it to have more time to practice. Her mother, however, as well as her brother, never stopped calling her. They would call her, and she would leave the phone on her table so that they could hear her play. Neither her mother nor her brother minded this, because they felt that Kendal's viola told them more about her than she would ever have told. Also, they knew she was still alive and well. That was all they needed to know. They both - as well as her friends - knew she was a bit crazy nowadays, but no-one blamed her. At least she was happy.
And then it came. The day of the concert.
All the rehearsals had gone very well. The rest of the orchestra was, of course, playing other pieces as well. While they did so, Kendal sat in a chair backstage and listened to the faint sound of the orchestra. The day she had lived for was here. She started to think. If she had not found out that she was dying, she would not be sitting there. She would be sitting on the toher side of the wall, with the other violas, playing her part like she had done for years. She would be working in an office as her main job and saving half of her income. She would postpone her dreams for a later day and constantly worry about spending too much money. She had no reason to believe she would have stopped doing any of that if she hadn't found out she would die soon. She smiled to herself. What irony! If she wasn't dying, she would never have started living.
The orchestra finished their piece on the other side of the wall and someone opened the door.
"Kendall," they called her.
She stoop up holding her viola. Her trusted viola that had brought her this far. She held it tightly and walked to the door in her green dress.
She knew what she was doing and she could do it.
She felt beautiful in her expensive dress.
"Life is so wonderful," she whispered to her viola. She loved living.
She stepped on the stage and the audience started applauding at her. She walked to the center of the stage and bowed. There were hundreds of people watching her, and they all knew she was going to die soon. This was the moment she had lived for. She took a deep breath and looked at the conductor. He smiled at her and she nodded.
She began playing.
She played with all her might. She poured all of her skills and feelings into it and made her viola sing. She listened to her own playing and the orcestra. Uncontrollable tears started flowing from her eyes. It was so incredibly moving to have her dream filled. It sounded so much more beautiful than any of the recordings she had heard. It had so much more feelig to it; she knew all the players and she knew they were all playing for her. It was her swansong, really, and all her friends and acquaintances from the orchestra were playing it with her. She couldn't stop crying, but she also couldn't wipe her eyes because she was playing. So, she choose to ignore her tears and focus on playing.
It was better that way, actually, because then she didn't see how her friends and family in the orchestra as well as the spectator's chairs cried for her. She didn't see how one of the viola players, the one who had always sat next to her, cried so much she couldn't play anymore. She didn't see how the conductor wiped his eyes with his other hands at one point. She couldn't see how the whole audience was watching her, as if expecting her to die any moment.
When she finished playing, she felt an unbelievable wave of joy flush over her. She was so happy she couldn't stop smiling, yet she kept on crying at the same time. She turned to the audience and bowed with the conductor, who then turned to hug her. She held her viola tight in her left hand and wiped her tears.
"Thank you," she whispered to the conductor.
He nodded.
The orchestra had one more piece to play, so she left the stage alone. The door closed behind her and she leaned to it. Her heart was beating and her face was probably bright red. She sighed and closed her eyes. She was so incredibly happy that she couldn't believe it herself. She had done what she had come here to do. She had fulfilled her dream. Now she could truly die happy. The faces of her mother and brother flashed in her mind.
She brought her viola close to her face. "Thank you," she whispered to it. "Thank you so much... I think I made them happy, too."
I've lived life to its fullest, she thought. Then she let go and died. Not as a nobody, not as an office worker. Not even as a bad musician.
She died as a good musician and she was happy.
On another note: HAH! I made it this time! I managed to write this for the March Writing Challenge!
Yeah, so, the prompts were green, spring and insanity. I included them all, because that's the sort of thing I do. Please, do enjoy the outcome.
Something to Live for
It was spring when Kendal found out that she was, in fact, dying. She hadn't even lived for three full decades yet, and still she was dying. It was only at this point that the concept of death really opened to her. There she had been, thinking that she wouldn't die for another fifty years, during which she had all the time she needed to get married, have children, become famous and then, after an idefinite amount of time, die surrounded by her loved ones and achievements.
But lookie, that's not what actually happened. She was in her twenties, diagnosed with a genetic heart disease that would probably kill her in about six months. That wasn't even enough time to get pregnant and give birth to her offspring before she passed on. Maybe it was even better that way, considering that her disease was of the hereditary sort. That's what she tried to tell herself, anyway. Of course she didn't buy her own lies. Dying young sucked, and she knew that.
The fact it was spring when she found out about it was very soothing to her. Every time she felt excessively depressed about how little time she had left, she could go outside and walk in the park. Everything was green around her, flowers were blooming, and birds were singing as they frantically tried to find a mate for that year. Children were in the park, playing with their parents, and she could also see young couples kissing and cuddling. She was so surrounded with life that the thought of dying just didn't fit in her world anymore. She didn't believe it, and forgot about the whole thing. She wasn't the type to feel envious of other people's lives. Instead, she simply refused to believe what was true. It was only temporary, though. Every time she went back home, the reality was there to greet her with a wide grin.
That's probably also why she kind of snapped.
Thinking that she hadn't achieved anything, she decided to really get her name known before she was going to die. She begun to think of different ways to become famous or leave something behind her. She made a list of all kinds of things she had ever wanted to do and then began to eliminate choices that were impossible for her now.
She couldn't have any children, since she didn't have enough time. Also, they wouldn't really be her children if she didn't raise them herself, right? So, that was the first thing to get off the list. No children for her. Nobody to continue her legacy. Well, that was all right, she thought. Bad genes shouldn't be carried on. She moved to the next thing on the list.
Win a Nobel Prize. Huh. That seemed kind of difficult, seeing as she hadn't even gone close to a university since she graduated. Also, she had studied music, and there were no Nobels given out in music as far as she knew. Winning a Nobel had been her dream when she was still in high school and decided to become a microbiologist. It was, however, was a bit too hard for her, so she switched her major pretty soon. She had studied history to get at least some sort of diploma to show off to in her future job interviews. In the end, it had become quite in handy, since she got a well-paid job in the local museum. Not that she had enjoyed working there a lot, but it paid well and wasn't all that boring. She made a note to quit her job as soon as possible. Maybe they'd let her go without the two-week notice, since she was, after all, dying. The Nobel prize, however, was off the list.
Writing a book was something she had always wanted to do, but it looked like she didn't have enough time to do that, either. Of course, she could have written a book in the little time she had, but the proofreading, rewriting and the whole publishing process would have been too long for her to see the book in the stores. Most likely it wouldn't even get published, since Kendal wasn't all that skilled with words. She had always thought that she had time and there was no rush to start writing before she could think of a good story. Now it was already too late. She sighed and crossed it out of her list.
There was one thing left. She had been the violist for a professional orchestra for several years now. She had played the viola since she was seven years old, but she had never been particularly skilled with it. She had studied in an univeristy and got her degree as a professional musician, because she really loved music, but she had never thought of becoming a soloist. Nobody had expected much from her playing, so she had been happy to have gotten in the orcestra. She had, however, always dreamed about playing the solo part of a certain piece: Bartok's Viola Concerto. She head heard the concerto when she had been only ten years old and decided that some day she would be good enough to play the solo part. She wasn't a bad violist, so she thought it might be possible for her now, if she only had the time to practice.
She had quit her job in an office a few days ago, as she felt it was stupid to waste her time there if she was going to die soon, so she had all the time she could possibly need.
This might very well be the thing she was supposed to do with the time she had left.
She immediately picked up the phone and called the director of her orchestra.
"Hello, Mr. Bauer," she greeted him. "This is Kendal Blake calling."
"Ah, Kendal! How are you?" he answered happily. From his tone, Kendall presumed that he hadn't heard of her illness just yet.
"I have a request to make," Kendall started nervously. "You see, I have always dreamed of doing Bartok's Viola Concerto. Could we play that this summer?"
"I guess we could, if we find a proper soloist..." Mr. Bauer replied, sounding a bit confused.
Kendall took a deep breath. "You see, I would like to be the soloist. I believe I can manage it if I practice hard for a while."
"Kendall, are you out of your mind? You don't even play the solos of our current viola parts..." Mr. Bauer began, still with the confused tone.
"Out of my mind?" Kendall repeated. "I guess I am a bit out of my mind, really. But I have an excuse. Mr. Bauer, I'm dying."
"You're... dying?" Mr. Bauer's voice sounded like he believed he was getting fooled.
"Yes. The doctors gave me six months of lifetime at maximum."
Mr. Bauer was silent for a long time. "Are you for real, Kendal?"
"Yes I am, Mr. Bauer."
There was another long silence. "I want to fulfill your wish, but I have to talk to our conductor and some other people first. Also, if you want to do this... We will hold an audition for you. If you can't do it, then you can't do it."
"Are you sure?" Kendal was overjoyed.
"I'm not promising anything."
Kendal thanked him and they ended the call. For a brief moment, Kendal sat in her room and didn't do anything. She didn't even think anything besides "it might really happen". Then, she jumped up, grabbed her purse and ran out of her apartment. She would go and buy the sheet music for Bartok's Viola Concerto. She would start practicing right away. She would make it happen.
So she started practicing. She began taking private lessons from her old university teacher to become better. In order to afford this, she withdrew her savings from her bank account. After all, what good would her savings do when she was already dead and didn't even have a heir? She ate expensive and good food every day along with plenty of sweets and delicacies. She went to her orchestra's rehearsals and to the weekly subscription concerts and she slept well every night, because her heart disease made her pretty exhausted. All the time she didn't spend on doing any of the aforementioned activities, she spent on practicing the viola concerto. She didn't care what time of day it was, she played all the time she only could - much to her neighbour's dismay. She was completely absorbed in her playing, even to the extenct of forgetting to take her heart medication sometimes. This was something her mother would later loundly scold her for.
A month later, her death seemed even more inevitable and close than it had been. She was given less time by the doctors, as well as stronger medication. They discussed about possible tratments with her mother, but she couldn't be bothered to listen. She was too nervous about not managing to play the piece before her death to be bothered to postpone the said death. As said, she had gone a bit out of her mind, but she didn't care about that. Not that it would have done any good anyway, since the only treatment would have been a new heart, and it wasn't easy to find heart donators.
Kendal's mother was left to discuss with the doctors while Kendal went on living her life with no actual fear of death. She had completely accepted the fact that she was going to die. Sometimes she even went as far as to be happy about it, because otherwise she would never have gotten the chance to play her favourite piece with an actual orchestra. With every passing day, she was a bit more insane. She played and played her viola until her fingers were sore.
Then came the day for her audition. She had to prove that she was good enough, that she could do it without ruining the orchestra's reputation. They had already agreed that her concert would definitely bring in spectators, since it was the concert to fulfill her dying wish. It was the ultimate publicity stunt, except for the fact there was no script and that it wasn't professional advertisement psychologists behind the idea but a simple, average violist. That day, she went in front of the jury who would be the ones deciding whether she died happy or not. She stood in front of them and started playing.
The world disappeared around her as she concentrated. This was what she lived for now. If she couldn't do it, she couldn't do anything. She played, pouring all her feelings into her music and enchanting herself into a kind of hypnosis. She didn't stop playing until Mr. Bauer's voice penetrated her consciousness. "Kendal Blake! Can you hear me? Stop playing already!"
She stopped and looked at the jury, very confused. "Already? Didn't you like it?"
"We liked it," said one of the ladies watching her. She smiled, and Kendal could faintly remember seeing her before somewhere. "You can do the concerto, Miss Blake."
Kendal sat on the floor and started crying. She was so happy. Her dream would come true and she could really, truely die happy. People would hear her name before she died. She wouldn't die as an unknown, young office worker. She would die as a musician. She was so happy she felt like laughing and prancing around, but the tears wouldn't stop and her heart was acting up on her. She sat there and cried while the orchestra's conductor crouched next to her and comforted her.
Seeing as her dream would now actually become true, Kendal spent even more time playing her viola. She decided she would die as a good musician rather than an average one. When she played, her music should shoot arrows to her listeners' hearts and move them, make them cry and smile, feel whatever Kendal's viola commanded them to feel. This was her ideal image, and she worked hard to achieve it. She still took the lessons from her teacher and ate even better food. Every day she ate something she loved, because that way she was more content and could play better.
One day, on her way home from her lesson, she saw an exceptionally beautiful dress on a shop's window. It was a green dress, which would look good with her eyes, and it had just the kind of hem Kendal liked the most. She walked in to the store and asked about the dress. It was a unique dress made of silk, so it was more expensive than Kendal's monthly rent. The old Kendal would have frowned at the price and left the store to save the money instead, but the new Kendal was dying. So, the new Kendal tried the dress on, asked the shop's clerk to do the needed adjustions to it and then bought it. When she went home, she had the dress she would wear for her concert. She was very happy about it. She was very happy about everything.
Weeks passed and her friends stopped calling her because she never wanted to talk to them. She had cut herself off of their lives to ease the hit of her death when it came. She also done it to have more time to practice. Her mother, however, as well as her brother, never stopped calling her. They would call her, and she would leave the phone on her table so that they could hear her play. Neither her mother nor her brother minded this, because they felt that Kendal's viola told them more about her than she would ever have told. Also, they knew she was still alive and well. That was all they needed to know. They both - as well as her friends - knew she was a bit crazy nowadays, but no-one blamed her. At least she was happy.
And then it came. The day of the concert.
All the rehearsals had gone very well. The rest of the orchestra was, of course, playing other pieces as well. While they did so, Kendal sat in a chair backstage and listened to the faint sound of the orchestra. The day she had lived for was here. She started to think. If she had not found out that she was dying, she would not be sitting there. She would be sitting on the toher side of the wall, with the other violas, playing her part like she had done for years. She would be working in an office as her main job and saving half of her income. She would postpone her dreams for a later day and constantly worry about spending too much money. She had no reason to believe she would have stopped doing any of that if she hadn't found out she would die soon. She smiled to herself. What irony! If she wasn't dying, she would never have started living.
The orchestra finished their piece on the other side of the wall and someone opened the door.
"Kendall," they called her.
She stoop up holding her viola. Her trusted viola that had brought her this far. She held it tightly and walked to the door in her green dress.
She knew what she was doing and she could do it.
She felt beautiful in her expensive dress.
"Life is so wonderful," she whispered to her viola. She loved living.
She stepped on the stage and the audience started applauding at her. She walked to the center of the stage and bowed. There were hundreds of people watching her, and they all knew she was going to die soon. This was the moment she had lived for. She took a deep breath and looked at the conductor. He smiled at her and she nodded.
She began playing.
She played with all her might. She poured all of her skills and feelings into it and made her viola sing. She listened to her own playing and the orcestra. Uncontrollable tears started flowing from her eyes. It was so incredibly moving to have her dream filled. It sounded so much more beautiful than any of the recordings she had heard. It had so much more feelig to it; she knew all the players and she knew they were all playing for her. It was her swansong, really, and all her friends and acquaintances from the orchestra were playing it with her. She couldn't stop crying, but she also couldn't wipe her eyes because she was playing. So, she choose to ignore her tears and focus on playing.
It was better that way, actually, because then she didn't see how her friends and family in the orchestra as well as the spectator's chairs cried for her. She didn't see how one of the viola players, the one who had always sat next to her, cried so much she couldn't play anymore. She didn't see how the conductor wiped his eyes with his other hands at one point. She couldn't see how the whole audience was watching her, as if expecting her to die any moment.
When she finished playing, she felt an unbelievable wave of joy flush over her. She was so happy she couldn't stop smiling, yet she kept on crying at the same time. She turned to the audience and bowed with the conductor, who then turned to hug her. She held her viola tight in her left hand and wiped her tears.
"Thank you," she whispered to the conductor.
He nodded.
The orchestra had one more piece to play, so she left the stage alone. The door closed behind her and she leaned to it. Her heart was beating and her face was probably bright red. She sighed and closed her eyes. She was so incredibly happy that she couldn't believe it herself. She had done what she had come here to do. She had fulfilled her dream. Now she could truly die happy. The faces of her mother and brother flashed in her mind.
She brought her viola close to her face. "Thank you," she whispered to it. "Thank you so much... I think I made them happy, too."
I've lived life to its fullest, she thought. Then she let go and died. Not as a nobody, not as an office worker. Not even as a bad musician.
She died as a good musician and she was happy.