A story starter as suggested by Dr Lynn Bloomfield…
The audience fell silent, and had it been percussion night at the most glorious opera house in the world, one might have heard a pin drop. Anticipation had the gathered doyennes of high society breathless and edging forwards on their velvet seats. Tonight they had gathered in their finery to hear the maestro perform for their pleasure.
The house lights went down, and Erik von Hussenpfeffer strode onto the stage, his baton grasped in his fist like a rapier, the weight of responsibility bowing his already stooped shoulders. In his dark tail coat he looked more vulture like than usual.
At his presence the combined orchestra sat taller in their seats; eager eyes fixed on their conductor; they knew how important this event was. He nodded at the first chair as she adjusted her bagpipes, and sent a warning glare towards the troublemakers in the ocarina section. All was ready and from the silence a wave of applause built. It grew so loud that it became a solid thing, a wall of noise to greet the maestro.
She took her place, a tiny figure, and silence fell as Erik raised his baton. The world waited as Chiffon Au Claire turned the wheel of the hurdy gurdy and played the first haunting notes of Vivaldi’s Spring.
Image by Julio Rionaldo via Unsplash