I needed to buy a guitar, found a cheaper ad, came home to the seller and gasped - he turned out to be a person who collects musical instruments, and restoration and sale of used ones - for him it is like drinking beer.
My favorite was the violin on the wall - clearly a unique instrument of the masters. But he would not let her approach her. Despite the fact that he even had original ukuleles and accordions from Hitler's time in his collection, I was still chained to this violin on the wall.
What kind of master sculpted? What's the production date? How can you take a closer look?
- No. - The owner stopped any attempts to get closer to the instrument, although he clearly saw that I was very interested.
We discussed the guitar, chose from several options. The sound is brilliant, even on the "line". I paid, stuck my guitar in a prepared case (he appreciated my preparation), and he walked me to the elevator.
And then he says:
“It's a shame you didn't come to me after dark, young man.
- Why?
Promotional video:
- The violin, which you are so keenly interested in, is playing. Itself. Wonderful melodies, I tell you! Quiet and extremely melodic. Therefore, it hangs on my wall - for better sound resonance. But briefly. Two hours, no more, and then after dark. I don't even know what this phenomenon is connected with - I have been studying this violin for a long time and all the time in incomprehensible guesses. Oh, what a pity that you didn’t come after dark - you would hear this nectar melody….
The elevator doors closed and I went about my business.
After a while, without warning, I went to this master, drove by and it would not hurt to buy notes from him.
I was met by a retired woman. quite cordially and without reproach. Yes, they say, her husband has long been engaged in the restoration of various instruments and kept the collection …
- What do you mean … led?
- And he died 25 years ago.
I looked into the corridor and did not see the violin on the wall.
- Was there a violin?
- How do you know? Yes, we buried her with him, as he asked. Are you his student?
I had to lie that yes, so that it would not be completely incomprehensible. Then I asked, do you have guitars?
She said that yes, though no one except grandchildren and their friends is interested in them, they remained from her husband in the closet. She invited me to look, clearly hinting at a purchase on my part. Pensioners, I understand.
In the place where I took the guitar, there was the money that I paid for it - untouched and even somewhat powdered with dust.
I said that I'm sorry, urgent matters await, although the widow clearly did not hide her embarrassment about money and the loss of a guitar from a closed apartment.
As you understand, neither the phone number nor the advertisement on the Internet, even in the Google cache, was found. So what was that?
On the other hand, you probably want me to finish the story about hearing the violin moaning from my guitar at night? No, a tool as a tool. I pulled the strings, brought the tuning pegs to mind, oiled and haunted the microcracks. Brunch and brunch on it. Nothing.
But what was it?
Author: Albert