Hymn Of Sorrow

Nothing in life is a true given. The only two seemingly guaranteed things in life are two things:

Taxes, and Death.

Avery knows one of these things all too well. She has accepted those things the minute her mother left her;the minute her father drew his last breath.

Life is a cruel, painful experience, she says. In and out of foster homes, dealing with so many people- fake, heartless people who wouldn’t dare shelter a teenager for simply being a young adult. It’s not worth living.

The amount of pain recieved isn’t worth living for- and she believes it. Every single word.


That night.

Avery, with her pathetic job and pathetic life, drags on and on at that tavern. Every table reeks of beer and depression, drunkards and alcoholics wallowing in their own self pity and self medication.

Serve after serve, bill after bill- she was glad that it all passes by. She was in a trance-like state; serving the heartless people hour by hour. She never gave a thought to the scruffy male that walked into that dented door with the rusted bell on its hinges. She never cared

The hours flew by to past midnight, that said male setting up on the small stage at the corner of the tavern, him setting a guitar with a stained, oakwood stool. Every now and then she would send a quick glance before returning to her disheartening work.

In the middle of replacing a Corona, a gentle hum of the guitar rolls through the air. Over and over again, further mellow, refined sounds from the instrument purrs in the background. The ones who weren’t completely wasted, lifted their solemn eyes towards the musician.

With every whisk of his hand, the music overflowed the rooms. A cool, somber melody on repeat.

More and more people look up to listen, the tavern growing eerily quiet.

At first, Avery didn’t care. But as time went on, the depressing melody caresses her soul, warming her ever so cold, aching heart.

With a soft, feathery whisper of the man’s voice, intertwining with the music his calloused hands play, the whole room was in a trance. Avery looked up from her table, watching.

His song was a sorrowful hymn, a lullaby reaching everyone’s fragmented hearts.

Time seemed to stop entirely; the gentle sway of his voice, the strumming of his guitar suffusing the air with its angelic melody.

The rhythmic tune was speaking of loss and grief; abandonment and loneliness- all people that crowd this tavern.

With the last flick of the wrist, the males voice dies down, the instrument soon following. The man looks up from his own trance, waiting.

Small, burdensome claps fill the room; some of the patrons even shed a tear or two.

Avery, who has known loss all her life, never believed someone would understand her pain. She accepted that life was miserable, and that only herself would hold this burden tight- for no one would dare attempt to understand.

Amidst the crowds roaring applause, a single tear fell, rolling down her redden cheeks, reflecting the her story she dare wouldn’t share.

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