People! English isn't my first language, so don't be surprised for the awful grammar xP if you can help me with some corrections, it will be great x) hope you like it


The musician

That was an old man who really loves music. He spent his life, since young, playing his guitar with an enviable talent. Even he was able to write beautiful songs, ballads then tells the most important moments of his life. He had a wide public; thousands and thousands of faces full of joy and emotion after he plays one of his songs, people whose hearts were touched by inexplicables melodies. And he was just getting better with the age. He grew up, and of his followers too; he looked how they changed and loved his music just like him. But he didn’t had to born in a rich family. He was humble since child. His public were passers and his scenery a park. He doesn’t need the fame and glory of another artists. What he had was enough to be happy. He had delighted thousands of ears, made people cry and smile, and their cheers deafened more than one time. But there was one who never smiled. A young man in suit who saw him every afternoon, always at 4 o’clock, before his rest.

His presence, always enigmatic but pleasant, planted some curiosity in the old musician, who start to play with more passion, waiting to saw a smile in that serious face. But he didn’t make it. He actually seemed to be sad every day. Until the day he decided to talk to him and finally know why he wasn’t able to smile like the rest.

“You have become quite a regular, sir”, he said when he was close to him.

That afternoon, after the last concert before his rest, the young man was the only one who stayed. The old man finally had time to look at him without interruptions. With a blonde and short hair, and those delicates black eyes, he gave the appearance of a cold man, but those fine facial features make it look like someone who wasn’t capable of kill a fly. But there was something in his eyes who look familiar.

“Forgive me if i’m wrong,” continue the musician, smiling, “but you have been here since what... ¿a couple of weeks? Some of them came frequently, but not every day at the same hour. Always four o’clock”, he felt a soft twinge in his chest, but he didn’t paid attention.

“This is the moment I choose to listening”, he answers with a calm voice.

“And you’re puntual. Like a swiss watch”.

“The punctuality is an important part of my job. I can’t take the risk to being late or... well, I don’t want to know what’s gonna happen”.

“Sounds like a hard job”.

“It wasn’t my choice, but I get used to it. Even I found it relaxing. I learnt a lot of things with the time”.

“Learn is always good”, said the old man, with regret in his voice. “I didn’t have the chance to had a good education. Everything I know I learned from myself, looking at the people, but it wasn’t enough. You’re young, don’t waste it”.

“I can be a lot of things, but I assure you than young isn’t one of them”.

The old man let see wince and put his hand over his chest. His companion didn’t seems to bother about that.

“You don’t feel good”, finally says, sighing.

“I've had chest discomfort this last days. It’s nothing”, he stand up. “But maybe I’ll go home early.

“I’m pretty sure it will stop soon”, the young man took the guitar, looking carefully. “If i’m not wrong, some people believe music can appease the pain. My work makes me deal with people suffering. Maybe your notes can give them some relief”.

“But it seems that you’re always moving, and I can’t see how I could bring my music with you. I’m not that fast anymore”.

“But your talent isn’t enough for this park!”, exclaimed.

“I don’t think the same way. The life gives me this site as scenery, and I took it. Yes, it’s small, but it wasn’t an impediment for the people to stop and hear”.

“Life has for you a bigger scenery”, his confidence seemed suspicious for him. “And a bigger public”, the young man extended his hand towards him. At the moment he took it, the pain disappeared, and got replaced by a incredible calm who he never felt before, while he watched his entire life pass in front of his eyes. He remembered every face he looked, every chord he played and every song he interpreted. Some tears rolled down his cheeks, and a big smile appeared on his face. “It is time”.

And both left.




Nobody listened again that old man. People didn't stop, and some lowered his gaze as they passed the bench where he used to sit, missing the music he used to play for them. They were those who tried to imitate it, but any of them had the talent. Eventually, the people start to forgotten.
However, since the day he departed, there have been strange rumors. Those that accompany a loved one who’s about to die can assure they feel a slight breeze, and some beautiful chords that relieved the pain of their hearts.