[For today’s response to the Daily Post prompt, Cue the Violins, one is to describe the soundtrack that plays during the movie of one’s life. As I did earlier this week, I’ll spread this response over a couple-few days.]
“Halt.” At the tempered yet commanding sound of Coach Dan’s voice, all activity on the cafeteria floor — the bout between short stout Double-J and tall lean Rex at the center of the room, the huddled conversation over comic books between greasy-haired Rune and rotund Butch as they sat near the khaki sacks that contained Bark Bay High School’s fencing equipment, the demonstration of proper form and footwork technique that Annie (athletic and pony-tailed) was providing to The Bird (frail and dark) — stopped.
Coach Dan was pleased that everyone, even Double-J (who had lifted his mask so that it rested on top of his head), had turned their attention towards him. “Have any of you ever considered — the music that plays when you fence?” His pleasure increased as he saw the uniform look of confusion on all his students’ faces. “What I mean is, there’s a rhythm to fencing, the back-and-forth with your opponent is like a dance.”
“Thought it was like a conversation.” Double-J looked disgusted. “At least, that’s the lame metaphor you were using last week.”
“Simile.” Annie smiled triumphantly at Double-J, the disgust on his bearded face growing like a virulent rash.
Coach Dan casually took a few steps forward, until he was between the two teens’ line of sight. “And I still think it’s like a conversation, my friend, but I noticed last week that little — ” he glanced quickly between Double-J and Annie — “figure of speech I used last week, didn’t really register with anyone. And like I tell you — when something isn’t working for you on strip, don’t just try to do it faster and harder, or think you’ve failed. If fencing as conversation doesn’t work for you, perhaps fencing as music will.”