Disclaimer: The author of this story owns nothing but the order that these words appear in. If you take away any moral from this story it is entirely your own fault and not the intention of the author.
It was late. And, because London was London, it was raining. James Bond had just finished up a long day in the office of his very successful foreign trade business and was ready to get home. James shut down his computer and hustled out the door, ignoring his secretary's futile attempts to wish him a good night. Stepping out into the street and into the rain, he tightened his grip of his briefcase and struggled against the wind and rain down the street in the direction of the tube station.
Pushing past a wall of people, he found himself in the somewhat drier part of the tube station. Welcome to rush hour on the tube, James thought ironically to himself. He continued walking, focusing on getting home as quickly as possible.
Reaching his station, James was just about to board-
There was a noise. A sound. Music. Why did those notes catch his attention? Why couldn't he walk away?
Beautiful and haunting, this music flowed around James, pulling him in all sorts of directions. He could hear nothing but this music, everywhere and nowhere all at once. Turning like a wolf stalking his prey, James turned around, trying to locate the source of the music. When he finally found it, he could hardly believe his eyes.
Standing in a dark corner and looking as if he lived on the streets was a boy. He wasn't young, but his dark, curly hair certainly made him look years younger than he actually was. What really caught James's attention wasn't the boy himself. Rather, it was the violin that made the businessman stare so.
It's case, lying open on the ground, was filthy and torn up from obvious years of travel. The violin, however, was immaculate. It's wood shone with care and its strings were finely tuned.
James felt himself gravitating closer to the musician, not close enough to show interest, just to get a better view of that violin and its owner. He watched one slender hand grip the bow and slide it surely across the strings, while the other lovingly held the violin, racing up and down the strings to fly up to the high notes and scoop down to the low.
What really captivated James, though, was the boy's face. His eyes were closed behind thick glasses and an expression of complete abandon shone through like a candle lit behind a thin veil. This boy needed no sheet music-James could tell-only to feel the notes and move with the sound, letting it take him wherever he needed to go. James could only watch as the young violinist poured his heart and soul out into the music.
And everyone else walked past. No one in the entire crowded tube station gave the boy a passing glance, but for some reason, James couldn't even look away from him. This boy was putting everything he had into his music, but for what? What would he get out of it? A small meal? He would get almost nothing. Which meant that he was playing his violin just to hear the notes and make the music.
That violin was still playing its sad and hopeful song. The melody cut through the chaos and settled into a bubble of peace around its creator. And James was drawn to that order and calm. Never wanting to hear the end of the music, James dropped some notes into the open violin case and walked away. He boarded his tube, the music still echoing off the grimy walls of the crowded tube station.
Yet another one-shot with no discernable plot/dialogue. I swear, it was all the plot bunnies!
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