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skonen_bladesThis was an accordion to love.
Bright red enamel finished with mother-of-pearl scalloped inlays racing each other around the edges. Ornamental etchings decorated the keys and the traditionally black keys were coated with silver and engraved with famous names from South American history.
The chord buttons were black jet polished to a sheen interspersed with white ivory in a checkered pattern that made the eye hurt.
The fabric between the spines of the bellows was a naked woman laid out on a bathing mat with a shower of cherry blossoms falling down. She stretched and contracted, became visible and invisible, during the playing of the music.
It was a masterful instrument. The insides were tuned to perfection. The Master Accordion maker Guglielmo himself had made it without apprentice help.
It sat on the pickup shelf in Guglielmo’s accordion shop. It had been waiting for years. Durango, the master accordion player who had ordered it, had ordered it two years ago and then disappeared.
The front door swung quietly open and the bell jingled at the front of the shop, disturbing the dust playing in streaming sunbeams coming through the front windows. Guglielmo snorted awake. He’d been napping behind the cash register. He did most of his work late at night for foreign orders. Actual foot traffic was slow. Quickly, Guglielmo slicked back his hair and stood up straight.
The stranger was immaculately dressed but about a century out of date. He was tall and thin and wearing a top hat. His suit was elegant with violet brocade across the vest and a gold watch chain dangling in the sunlight between the lapels of his jacket.
His nose had been cut off some time ago and he was wearing an eyepatch. It was hard not to stare at the twin holes in the center of his face so Guglielmo maintained a steady stare at the man’s good eye.
“Are you Guglielmo Sartori, son of Vincenzo Sartori, master accordion craftsmen with no equal?” the apparition asked.
“I am.” Said Gugliemo.
“I am here to pick up an accordion on behalf of an acquaintance. I had a deal with him and he has forfeited. I’ve given him a last request. That last request was that I should pick up the accordion he has been pining for. He says that it is here. His name was….sorry, is Durango.” Said the tall stranger.
Guglielmo looked past the dark stranger at the accordion on the shelf. He’d gotten used to it over the last few years and there was no doubt about it being the pinnacle of his profession. Craftily, he walked over to a blue accordion with hummingbird feathers shining iridescently under the etched enamel.
“Here it is.” He said with a smile.
It got dark outside the store. Maybe a cloud had passed over the sun. The stranger’s good eye grew larger.
“I’ve no time for games. That is not the instrument I seek.” He said. His voice was suddenly pitched a little lower than Guglielmo would have thought humanly possible and he heard tires screech in the distance.
“Right you are sir. Where was my head? It’s right over here.” Guglielmo picked up a dark green accordion, elegant in it’s simplicity with all the colours of the rainbow on the chord buttons. The keys themselves had been yellowed to look like smoker’s teeth. It was definitely macabre enough to interest this gentlemen.
The first few drops of rain pattered onto the storefront’s window. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Guglielmo heard a dog whine.
“You are a master of your craft so I shall give you another chance. I warn you, sir, it will be your last.” Said the stranger. On the last word, blood trickled down from behind the stranger’s eyepatch and Guglielmo noticed how long the gentleman’s teeth were.
He came to the realization that it would be his life or the accordion. He valued his life more.
”It’s the red one over there on the pickup shelf. He paid in advance. It’s yours.” He motioned with his hand and walked back behind the cash register.
The stranger looped a long-nailed hand through the shoulder strap and lifted it up. It wheezed just a little as it was hoisted on the back of the stranger.
Without further ado, the stranger opened the door of the shop and made to leave.
Guglielmo started and shouted for the stranger to stop. The stranger stared at him.
Guglielmo gulped and said “If you could, please request for me that he play The Lover’s Lament on it as the first tune. It was part of the bargain I struck with him. It was my wife’s favourite tune.”
“Hm” the man said and smiled. It was a terrible thing to behold. “I’m not familiar with your wife. However, the idea of an inaugural song, while touching, is quite moot. Durango has no hands anymore with which to play. I just want to give him something to look at.”
With a smirk and a tip of his hat, he left the store.
The weather got better outside immediately.
Guglielmo thought about that day for the rest of his life. He never made a better accordion than that one.
tags
Bright red enamel finished with mother-of-pearl scalloped inlays racing each other around the edges. Ornamental etchings decorated the keys and the traditionally black keys were coated with silver and engraved with famous names from South American history.
The chord buttons were black jet polished to a sheen interspersed with white ivory in a checkered pattern that made the eye hurt.
The fabric between the spines of the bellows was a naked woman laid out on a bathing mat with a shower of cherry blossoms falling down. She stretched and contracted, became visible and invisible, during the playing of the music.
It was a masterful instrument. The insides were tuned to perfection. The Master Accordion maker Guglielmo himself had made it without apprentice help.
It sat on the pickup shelf in Guglielmo’s accordion shop. It had been waiting for years. Durango, the master accordion player who had ordered it, had ordered it two years ago and then disappeared.
The front door swung quietly open and the bell jingled at the front of the shop, disturbing the dust playing in streaming sunbeams coming through the front windows. Guglielmo snorted awake. He’d been napping behind the cash register. He did most of his work late at night for foreign orders. Actual foot traffic was slow. Quickly, Guglielmo slicked back his hair and stood up straight.
The stranger was immaculately dressed but about a century out of date. He was tall and thin and wearing a top hat. His suit was elegant with violet brocade across the vest and a gold watch chain dangling in the sunlight between the lapels of his jacket.
His nose had been cut off some time ago and he was wearing an eyepatch. It was hard not to stare at the twin holes in the center of his face so Guglielmo maintained a steady stare at the man’s good eye.
“Are you Guglielmo Sartori, son of Vincenzo Sartori, master accordion craftsmen with no equal?” the apparition asked.
“I am.” Said Gugliemo.
“I am here to pick up an accordion on behalf of an acquaintance. I had a deal with him and he has forfeited. I’ve given him a last request. That last request was that I should pick up the accordion he has been pining for. He says that it is here. His name was….sorry, is Durango.” Said the tall stranger.
Guglielmo looked past the dark stranger at the accordion on the shelf. He’d gotten used to it over the last few years and there was no doubt about it being the pinnacle of his profession. Craftily, he walked over to a blue accordion with hummingbird feathers shining iridescently under the etched enamel.
“Here it is.” He said with a smile.
It got dark outside the store. Maybe a cloud had passed over the sun. The stranger’s good eye grew larger.
“I’ve no time for games. That is not the instrument I seek.” He said. His voice was suddenly pitched a little lower than Guglielmo would have thought humanly possible and he heard tires screech in the distance.
“Right you are sir. Where was my head? It’s right over here.” Guglielmo picked up a dark green accordion, elegant in it’s simplicity with all the colours of the rainbow on the chord buttons. The keys themselves had been yellowed to look like smoker’s teeth. It was definitely macabre enough to interest this gentlemen.
The first few drops of rain pattered onto the storefront’s window. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Guglielmo heard a dog whine.
“You are a master of your craft so I shall give you another chance. I warn you, sir, it will be your last.” Said the stranger. On the last word, blood trickled down from behind the stranger’s eyepatch and Guglielmo noticed how long the gentleman’s teeth were.
He came to the realization that it would be his life or the accordion. He valued his life more.
”It’s the red one over there on the pickup shelf. He paid in advance. It’s yours.” He motioned with his hand and walked back behind the cash register.
The stranger looped a long-nailed hand through the shoulder strap and lifted it up. It wheezed just a little as it was hoisted on the back of the stranger.
Without further ado, the stranger opened the door of the shop and made to leave.
Guglielmo started and shouted for the stranger to stop. The stranger stared at him.
Guglielmo gulped and said “If you could, please request for me that he play The Lover’s Lament on it as the first tune. It was part of the bargain I struck with him. It was my wife’s favourite tune.”
“Hm” the man said and smiled. It was a terrible thing to behold. “I’m not familiar with your wife. However, the idea of an inaugural song, while touching, is quite moot. Durango has no hands anymore with which to play. I just want to give him something to look at.”
With a smirk and a tip of his hat, he left the store.
The weather got better outside immediately.
Guglielmo thought about that day for the rest of his life. He never made a better accordion than that one.
tags
no subject
Date: 13 Oct 2007 02:22 (UTC)- chandra
no subject
Date: 13 Oct 2007 07:20 (UTC)