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Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2012 11:53 am
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Nikolai slowly lowered his hand from the instrument, though his gaze, distant and sad, stayed downward. "The man who used to play this all the time. His name was Viktor." Finally, he lifted his sorrowful gaze to look at Leon. "It was when I was in the gulag, dearie. I spoke to him occasionally, and he would always talk about how he wanted to play his banjo just once before he could die. He tried to hard to rebuild it, he'd take beatings from Soviets, scavenge for bones, anything that could make a instrument." Unable to make eye contact anymore, he dropped his gaze to the banjo. "He finally made one. It was deeply out of tune, but it was a banjo nonetheless." His fingers felt the bridge of the string instrument. "He was so happy, dearie. It was hard to see such joy in that God-forsaken place. He played and played, it was one of the only things that kept me alive then." His eyes closed and a tear from the past fell. "After his third song, they shot him. Right there, in front of my eyes. In front of everyone's eyes." He plucked a string and listened to the note linger in the air, remembering the very man of his past fall to the ground with his blood falling like snowflakes.
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