Prologue
You never would have noticed it just peeking out like a giant pearl lost in miles of white sand.
The second you first touched it though, you knew. You could feel how powerful it really was and how little every tomorrow would resemble its yesterday.
Its strength emanating from an unburdened mind, bringing you a whole world straight to your fingertips. Its voice reaching back through the decades, taking you on a musical sojourn through time. And its face transporting your to your own memories, brought to life through crystal-clear hues and shadows.
All this from something that was, at long last, not only a .
*Fill in the blank and finish the story*
My response:
All this from something that was, at long last, not only a flute.
You lifted it up, admiring its flawless craftsmanship. Tentatively, you blew into it, immediately noting the high, clear tone. Superb. In the empty, oddly fresh attic of your grandmother's creaky Victorian house, you felt blessed to find such an amazing instrument. Although you were a flute player in your school band, you had never seen any flute as wonderful as this. You wondered if you could keep it, and made a mental note to ask your grandmother when she woke up from her nap.
Putting it down gingerly, you shivered with the eerie luck of finding a new flute in your grandmother's attic - it seemed to be the only thing not covered in stereotypical attic dust. When you had pushed open the heavy door, it had been just sitting there on an open table. You had sworn you could almost see a halo above its mouthpiece and the cheesy cinematic opera "Aaahhhhh".
Your thoughts returned to the present as you heard your grandmother's light steps wafting up through the echoey house. Scrambling out of the attic, you tried to smile as she passed. It must not have worked, though, because your grandmother frowned and looked you up and down, taking in the dust on your jeans and in your hair. The strangest thought passed through your head - you must look like you have dandruff.
"Have you been in the attic?" she said, her shrewd, bright eyes immediately noting all of the important details. It was actually kind of creepy sometimes, but you loved her anyway. You hung your head a bit; your grandmother had told you not to go into the attic, but it was really your grandmother's cautioning that had driven you to explore the attic of all rooms in your grandmother's spacious house. Plus, you had already peeked into most of the other rooms, and they looked boring. The long, lazy summer days when you were dumped at your grandmother's house would became more monotonous each year as your grandmother became less active and you explored more and more of the house.
You hung your head a bit, though not regretting a thing. "Yes," you said truthfully. Your grandmother despised liars and you knew that if you lied, she would catch you and punish you twice as much. Then you smiled playfully. Your grandmother smiled back, and you knew that she wasn't too angry.
"Did you find the flute?" she asked.
"Yeah, I did."
"It's okay," your grandmother said, giving you a hug. "I just wanted to give it to you at the right time."
"You mean... I can have it?" you asked, incredulous. She laughed, a deep chuckle that made you feel bubbly and happy inside.
"Of course. I had it made specially for you. Happy thirteenth birthday, Lenmana," she replied.
Oh! You had forgotten all about it. It was your birthday, and you were a teenager! The fact that this had completely escaped you surprised you more than a little. With a little squeal, you rushed forward like a five-year-old at Christmas and took the flute that your grandmother was holding out to you.
For the rest of the day, the old Victorian house was filled with the joyful music of you and your flute.
*The writing prompt was taken from a Kindle special offer - a promotion for the HTC One X phone. The original blank was "phone".*
According to the I Write Like software:
