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Lightning in a Jar by Cole Parker


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15 hours ago, Rutabaga said:

"Hi there. The name's Cliff.  Cliff Hanger."

As they say on TV, "Tune in next week for the next installment of...."

Colin  :icon_geek:

 

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Chapter 11: Ah, good things come to those who wait patiently—and even to those of us who react before we see where the author is taking us. I should have trusted Cole more. I like the way everything seemed to come together in Chapter 11.

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Great story - I loved it. Maybe Cole we could see them ten years on when Nick gives that performance? I for one would like to see how it all works out.

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7 hours ago, Nigel Gordon said:

Great story - I loved it. Maybe Cole we could see them ten years on when Nick gives that performance? I for one would like to see how it all works out.

Funny, but that's how I first wrote the ending, Nigel, with an epilogue.  A beta reader convinced me it was better to end it leaving them all at their same ages, and thinking about it, I agreed. This leaves what comes next wide open, which is a much more enticing end. We've seen these characters as they've been in the story, and to show them all more mature, all changed one way or anther, all more settled in life, somehow changes the effect of it all.

I wrote it both ways.  Then dumped the original ending.  And very glad I did.

Thanks, everyone for your kind comments throughout the story's run.

C  

 

 

 

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  • 4 weeks later...

A bit behind these days, so I'm just getting around to responding to this wonderful story. The ending reminded me so much of my one and only experience seeing a true protege in concert. It was the early 1980s and the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra was experimenting with a new concept to bring the music to the people. There was, and is, a local historic park called Conner's Prarie, centered on a period village and located perhaps an hour's drive from downtown Indy. The Symphony set up a bandstand at one end of a grassy field and patrons were encouraged to bring blankets, lawn chairs and a picnic dinner. The venu proved so popular that they eventually built a permanent amphitheater and the symphony holds a full summer series there now, but the night I remember was the inaugural concert, when my mom, my brother, my nephew and I spread out a blanket near the bandstand and enjoyed a spread of sandwiches, fried chicken and watermelon as I recall.

When the shadows began to lengthen, we rolled up our blanket, set up the folding chairs and enjoyed the start of the concert. I couldn't even tell you now what the symphony played in the first half of the program. It must have been very late when the special guest made his appearance, as it was already getting dark, which wouldn't have happened until 9:00 or 10 PM. The special guest was a young protege who lived in Bloomington, Indiana at the time, where he was studying the violin. As I recall, he was only fifteen years old on that night, and he played Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto with the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra. His performance was absolutely flawless and brought the house, or rather, the field to a rousing standing ovation at the end.

The name of that young protege was Joshua Bell.

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