The Guitar Competition

By Alek D. Flener-Satre

A Quickly Written Piece

A clear summer day it was, walking through the neighborhood as I did everyday. I saw a piece of paper on the ground; it said “Guitar Competition” at the top. I gazed at the sky. Would it be worth it to enter? I asked myself. As I attempted to toss away the paper “First place wins a Stratocaster” caught my eye. I pulled the paper close to my face and read as I dashed home.

…

I picked up my ragged guitar. There were deep scratches, bare spots, and even a few holes in the surface, but it served it’s purpose. I tried to play something but nothing seemed to fit together. I tried for hours until I picked up a lighter and used it as a slide. Within a few moments I had something competition worthy.

…

I practiced all week. During that time I developed the piece and my playing developed. The competition was Friday, but practice never hurt anyone. It always seemed to help.

…

I arrived ½ an hour before the competition was to start. I had my guitar in it’s case, the lighter in my pocket and my amp in my right hand. I set up my area and tuned the guitar. I looked at the other contestants, who all seemed a bit nervous. I knew how they felt too because I was just as nervous. I took a seat, no need to reveal my bit and no need to do anything else. I looked at the sky. It was blue with not a cloud in sight and the sun shining bright. I heard a car pull up, I looked down and my heart skipped a beat when I saw who it was. It was the best player in the city, competing against us amateurs. At that time about six people pulled out. He took the place of the first guy and set up. Clouds started to roll in and the temperature seemed to drop.

…

“Alright, let’s begin this,” the judge said standing up. “Number one, GO!” The boy gave an ear shattering solo so incredibly fast, it was hard to believe. After he ended his portion, the notes repeated in my ears again and again.

“NEXT!” the judge screamed at the top of his lungs. Everyone but me left his or her areas. It was just me and him. I gripped the lighter in my hand tightly.

“Ready when you are,” he said calmly. I took a deep breath and put on my pick. Another deep breath and I put my arm in position. Another and I hit the strings giving my solo. They all gawked at the sound I was producing. Ear shattering squeals that made you almost wince in pain and scream for more. I soon finished and it went silent.

“Very good, I’ll be back momentarily to determine the winner,” the judge announced. He walked off and none of us made a move after we sat down. There was a thick tension in the air. I was barely breathing.

…

“I have decided that contestant two, although good,” he said, I knew what was next too, “is disqualified for use of an unapproved object. Therefore, contestant one wins by default.” Cheers erupted as he got his guitar.

I went over to the trashcan and stuck my guitar in it. I started away and went back. I lit it on fire with the lighter then threw it in as well. I vowed to never play guitar again in my life.