literature

Like a Fiddler on the roof

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Literature Text

Perched on high, said the little ray of sunrise to the creaking tin roof that held the silhouette's weight
Two size eleven feet with a 6'2 shadow, who knew? Alas, the break of the day cannot behold such sights..but why?
Why tis the sunrise and still dark in the East where he lay! So crow young rooster and wake up the rising sun.
So it seems the volume is not enough for the medium sized star that gradually rises, if not slower than ever before.
Who will wake the sun and overpower the moon that has but only barely left, its head still visible to another side?
Certainly not the hunting dogs, though the myriad volumnous barks and howls might angrily awaken a neighborhood!
Tis the silhouette mentioned earlier who without a word, humbly yet boldly without a word escaping such warmly amused smiles,
who wished to position himself in his current spot as he rested, settling his wooden stringed friend after a minute or two.

Calloused fingers gently turn the pegs once before a bow casually checked the strings, causing it to howl and screech in distress.
Oh how the sow and the piglets snorted and squealed, the horses whinnied, the hounds whimpering in true pain, one uncomparable!
But one apology after followed by a sheepish chuckle was offered by the silhouette as he tuned the pegs, trying once more in hope.
Once again the bow offered a blow towards the strings, the fiddle still crying out in deep, dark anguish the longer it's carressed.
Carressed? Hah, thistles and poverty are but in comparison to heaven at this point if the stringed being had to suffer aloud!
Louder than ever did the animals seem to be, the rats squeaking, purring felines now hissing in distaste? Must it be this way?
And yet one last time did the silhouette beg forgiveness, this time with more regret biased on unforgivable pain before clearing his throat.
The final time the bow stroked the strings and at first it sounded nasty but then he achieved his goal, the animals now left in peace.

With the beasts now tamed and the screeching having ceased, the sun held no reason to be afraid anymore nor hide off and wind time.
Now it has cautiously stayed about, very well my good bright man! May the rooster's throat feel better, and may the hounds have pity.
Yes, now they simply stay and stare as they hear the melodic melody coming from the stringed instrument, a near twin of the violin.
The disturbance caused mere minutes ago was now replaced with many pairs of anticipating wonderous eyes, mesmermized.
His fingers moved expertly with his bow as his companion while playing the fiddle still in hopes of coaxing the sun out of his spot.
The smile never faltered, yet was not one of confidence as he barely swayed from his current position, eyes dialated in said direction.
Such a shy thing the sun is, only ever so slowly peeking out from his hiding spot as if to be ashamed of his golden glory and looks!
However, his word was kept the more light it spread across vast miles of bright green grass glistening with today's morning dew.

Miniature giants, those Sunflowers are yet cheerful as they clearly seem to be the more gold their petals were dipped in.
Dandelions hid inbteween blades, shyly moving gently with the warm wind that followed this whole other morning that arrived.
Lakes, if blessed by the touch, gave a whole other appearance in comparison to their usual unmoving dull apperances; sparkling endlessly.
Yes..sparkling as if they harbored many shining crystals that must be retrieved; all a small, yet simple trick to the mind is it not?
Oh the silhouette, he must be thanked for a selfless deed he chose to do in a certain time or so the animals and flaura/fauna thought!
And yet..where did he go? Surely he was there a small while ago correct? Positively he was on the house with the creaky tin roof!
Yet that was not thought about too much as they were sure he was a simple piece of the imagination or a ghost not to be disturbed.
What they didn't know was how simply silent and agile he was, quitely residing in the small house with the creaky tin roof they speak of.
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within-the-silenc's avatar
"Why should he pick so curious a place to play his little fiddler's tune?" xD so much imagery, I love it!