The Rule of Thumb on Being a Dilettante - Original Flash Fiction

This was a regular mini-recital. He held it every week. Even though his room was small, he invited five people to sat crammed on the mattress. He sat in a wooden chair, weakly hunched over his old guitar.

"Are you going to play some Jazz?" said one spectator.

"Oh, yes. A piece by Django Reindhart, please!" said another one.

"I prefer blues song," the other responded.

Seems like the old guitarist did not really care. He remained calm. The recital was about to begin. The five spectators stop all debates. There were no lights, no sounds.

And then it started. The sound of a guitar gently flowing in the air, bounced back on the thick wall, brought a nice natural echo and reverb to the ears.

On rusty, rusty string, he spilled it all out. Stringing tones that hinted sadness. With the fingers on the rusty strings, he talked about many things beyond words.

He built the melody combining low and high tones spaced an octave simultaneously. That way, the sound of his guitar became so expressive. He strummed his guitar hard. It was the climax. He left the spectators in awe.

"Pardon, sir. This is maybe rude question" One of the spectators asked the old man.

"Yes?" said the old man.

"Your thumbs, sir... What happens with your thumb's nail?"

All the spectators glanced at the guy. As if he just asked a really terrible question. But they actually had the same question. They all seen it. The strange thumb of this old guitarist.

"Oh, yeah. I pulled my nail out" answered the old man.

"Why?"

"In the past, my late wife protested, she said my guitar was too loud."

"And...?"

"Without the nails on my thumb, my guitar picking technique sounds softer, is not it?"

"Yeah, your guitar technique is out of this world... But, man... Painful isn't it, pulling the nails from the thumb?"

"Of course it's painful!" the old man laughed hard. "Moreover, I pulled it with a plier. But as you see, I kinda like the results." The old man chuckled as he watched his unperfect thumb.

Once again, he left his loyal spectators in awe. This was the first time they'd ever seen a man so loved the sound of a guitar. They saw it tho. He plays his guitar with heart and soul. As if his fingers were trained to understand what is being voiced by the heart. He must be studied the mystery of sound for he knows the secrets of it. In his hand, even the basic chord guitar strumming sounded dazzling and full of meanings.

Fifteen songs had been played. The old man put his guitar in his case. Today's show is over.

"Thank you for this great show." The five spectators applauded.

"Yes, you are welcome. I'll see you next Sunday."

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There! I hope you like it!

I'm still learning on writing a very very short fiction. If you're writing short fiction too, please let me know in the comment below!

Photo by Yucel on Unsplash