Chatterbox: Inkwell

Story Review

I wrote this short story. Can you guys comment and reveiw it? Thanks in advance for any thoughts/suggestions you have!

If Music Could Speak

By: Hannah K. 

If music could speak, mine
would be saying a lot. Some days it would say that I am grieving over my father’s
death, even though it happened over three years ago. Others it would say I am
yearning for something, something just out of my grasp. But very rarely would
it say that I am on top of the world, happy, overjoyed, anything you could
think of. But today, my music was different. It was different because I wasn’t
playing any. My music was coming from the beeping machines in the hospital
room. The bed that my mother laid on was clean. The strange machines hooked to
almost every part of her body. Even though I could see almost all of her, the
only thing I noticed were her tears. They were streaming down her cheeks and wetting
the sheets. 

“Dixie,” her cold, shaking
hand rested on top of mine. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

But I couldn’t hear anything
else. I couldn’t hear anything because the words stopped. Mom was dead. The
doctors and nurses crowded around her, but I didn’t notice. My music was
screaming inside of my head. Playing all of the shock and sadness away into a calming,
melodic, minor melody. As I listened to my music, I collapsed. A nurse helped
me into a chair, wrapped me in a blanket and rocked me back and forth. All the
while, my music played in my head. But it soon stopped. My grief, sadness, and anger
drowned out the music until all I heard was my sobs. The room emptied. All I
could do was cry. I let out all the emotions. Bottled up anger and grief came
out with my tears instead of with my music. And for the first time since my
father’s death, I felt better, not because of music but because of tears. And I
didn’t need my violin. But it wasn’t just my tears that calmed me. It was the
hand of God resting on my heart, comforting my soul, and whispering in my ear.

“Be not afraid, for I am your
God.”