Congratulations to the winners of our March competition. Feeling inspired? Have a go at this month's prompt.
Downstairs, there's shouting.
She places a cloth around the strings, deadening vibration so she can practise Rodrigo silently and late. The college audition is tomorrow. Her escape route and they don't even know.
A staccato smash.
It's a drum, she convinces, just percussion.
Her fingers work, work, take hopeful flight.
Esan? Na shuidhe ann an oisean, a ghàirdean suas, a bheul fosgailte, balbh: frithir. Mise? Mì-chinnteach ’s eagalach, ach deiseil ceum teabadach a dhèanamh a-rithist.
Gach latha an aona duan, bidh sinn a’ coinneachadh a-nuadh. Agus, gu caomh, bidh sinn a’ taomadh ceòl a bheir solas do mo chridhe.
Translation by Gaelic Books Council
Him? Sitting in a corner, his arm raised, his mouth open, mute: impatient.
Me? Unsure and timid, but ready to take a faltering step again.
Each day follows the same script, we meet anew. And, gently, we pour out music that brings light to my heart.