An Embarrassing Story

September 16, 2019

The lights turned on. The curtains flung open. The audience stopped chattering. My final middle school concert was about to begin. I took a seat in front of the choir and slid the djembe, an  African drum, between my legs. With a slight movement of the baton, the conductor motioned for the music to commence. 

The choir started singing faintly, but as the baton danced more ferociously, the choir’s volume gradually increased. Around forty measures into the song, the time came close for me to enter. Instead of being nervous, my mind was as calm as a peaceful lake. My ears could only hear the harmonious sounds from behind. My head nodded and my shoulders bounced up and down excitedly to the groove, strong and inviting. It called to me and filled my hands with energy. A sense of impatience came upon me, like a driver  late to work waiting at the traffic light.

Glancing at the conductor, she smiled at me, and with a swift cue from the baton, she finally turned the traffic light from red to green. Without hesitation, I shut my eyes and allowed the music to guide me. The song instructed my hands, telling me where and when to hit the djembe. The drum’s bright tone matched the tune perfectly, bringing the song alive. At that moment, everything faded. It was just me, the djembe, and the music. 

Pop! A sharp sound shook my eardrums and snapped me back into reality. Opening my eyes, I looked down at the drum and froze. There was a hole in the drum. I had cracked it by playing with too much force. All of a sudden, the peaceful lake in me became a raging ocean. Waves of fear flushed over me as I panicked. Lost in the waters, I did not know what to do. Should I pretend that I was supposed to be finished? Should I l switch for a second djembe that was offstage?  Should I continue playing and hope for the best? In my moment of desperation, I chose the latter. However, right before I resumed playing, I flipped open the drumhead to better see what damage I had done. My heart sank. A crack on the drum had completely split the head into two. The drum was dead, and I had murdered it ruthlessly. Sighing, I quickly covered the crack, closed my eyes, and muttered a word of prayer, hoping that no one saw the atrocity I had just committed.

Taking a deep breath, I struck the djembe once again. The sound was like a book falling on a dense carpet. It was muffled, stale, and hard. Frustrated, I began to violently slam my hand against the drum, desperately attempting to resurrect its beautiful sound. Unfortunately, it was of no use. With every strike, the hole only grew larger. The sound only turned harsher. The audience only laughed harder. Simultaneously, the pain from smashing the djembe with my bare hands started to creep in. Soon enough, my arms begin to ache as well. It was agonizing, but this was not the time to give up. I had to finish the song. Gritting my teeth, I summoned the strength to continue playing. With each blow, a sharp pain stabbed through my hands, but I ignored it. Finally, when I was done, the conductor motioned me to stand up, and I awkwardly gave a bow. I was greeted with thunderous applause and a mountain of cheers. Glancing at the depressed and broken djembe, I silently swore to never break another drum.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQKpTfvDaYY&feature=youtu.be

Click HERE for Writing Process!

Reflection: Of all the different things I wrote this semester, this piece was definitely my favorite. When I was told to write a descriptive essay, I immediately thought of this scenario. It was the perfect set up. Even till this day, I could still remember the shock and the embarrassment of the moment. It was also great chance to improve my use of description language. As I was writing the story, I began to see new ways on how to create extended metaphors (peaceful lake that became raging ocean) or use repetition for effect with magic threes. Finally, when creating the website, I was able to dig up this old video of myself breaking the drum on that day. It was definitely cool comparing myself to the description I wrote.