My father is a musician. He plays the violin. My mother is a musician. She plays the cello. My sister is a musician. She plays the clarinet.
My parents bought a piano for me because they wanted me to be a musician. But I just didn’t have the knack. The family’s musical gene wasn’t passed on to me.
In a fit of pique, my father moved the piano outside onto the sidewalk in front of the family music store, where it sat unused and rotting away.
Then I discovered my passion, my green thumb. I can make plants grow anywhere.
(100 words)
Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Anshu Bhojnagarwala.
Excellent!!!
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Thanks, Cheryl.
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My favourite colour is green. Especially on fingers!
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Hey it’s at least so nice to see that he found his real talent by way of theirs
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True.
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Love it! The pic, too.
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Great take on the prompt.
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“In a fit of pique” you don’t hear that every day. Well-done!
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Thanks, Li.
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A horticulturist, not a pianist! Nice one.
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That was clever. Loved it. At least the piano was put to a good use.
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I appreciate your comment, Shirley.
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Ah, so that’s how it ended up there! Nicely done.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks, Susan.
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Excellent writing!
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Thank you!
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Fantastic way to discover a talent.
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Everyone has talent. I do believe that. I like the way you led your character to discover his / hers.
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Thanks.
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There… it’s just a question of finding your niche…
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Good take on the photo!
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Hard to figure out passion 🙄
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