No One Else to Play Them

As a child he had become so enamored of music that he had them both made especially for him.  And there was no one else to play them.

He played them in high school, college, and local community symphony too.  He played them for friends, neighbors, and almost anyone he knew.  But as grown-up responsibilities took over, he played them less and less until one day in a back closet he simply put them away.  And there was no one else to play them. 

Over the years, he looked at them sadly.  If only he could find the time, but he never did.  And there was no else to play them.

One day he passed away.  The obituary said "World's Tallest Man Dies." 

His set of seven foot tall violins would be donated to a museum, the article said, because there is no one else to play them.

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Picture prompt above, story below, 148 words .... that's the sound of this man working on the Fabulous Friday Fictioneers and Benevolent Chain Gang this week of January 11, 2013.

Yep, the words are high at 148  --- well above the prescribed 100 --- but maybe that's what's required for a short story about the world's tallest man.

Anyway, that's my tall story and I'm sticking to it.    I'll try to measure up next week.