Tag Archives: storytelling

Happiness Is A Thing To Be Practiced, Like A Violin.

13 Aug
Happiness Is A Thing To Be Practiced, Like A Violin.

David Garrett

Hello! Welcome to my blog. I love art, creativity and beauty, and I know these come in many forms. In this post I would like to introduce to you a record-breaking German classical and crossover violinist and recording artist David Garrett.

He gets his first violin at age four and makes his first appearance with the Hamburg Philharmonics at the early age of ten. At age thirteen he is the youngest artist to be awarded an exclusive contract with the Deutsche Grammophon Gesellschaft. In 1999, at the height of his career, the shooting star redirects his energy, deciding to leave his predetermined path as a classical violinist and move to New York – not to take a time-out but rather to place his musical proficiency on a theoretical foundation and perfect his technique. He enrolls at the prestigious Julliard School, studying musicology and composition.

Instruction with Itzhak Perlmann lends his performance completely new facets. David Garrett’s particular enthusiasm for studying composition earns him a distinction in 2003 when he wins the renowned Composition Competition of Julliard School with a fugue composed in the style of Johann Sebastian Bach. In doing so, he lays the foundation for what have become legendary arrangements. His highly esteemed American composition teacher Eric Ewazen has said of him “As a violinist, his spectacular, heartfelt and expressive playing already dazzled – even when he was a student – those of us who had the great pleasure of teaching him, and we recognized his extraordinary gifts and his amazing talent.”  http://david-garrett.com/us/about/


David Garrett’s personality and sex appeal is only surpassed by his talent.

Prominenz auf der AIDAluna

David Garrett breathes new life into the violin (classical music).


Talent, personality and good looks makes David Garrett a “Super Star”

I hope you enjoyed!


It Happened In An Elevator – Short Story

16 Jul


The Writer Next Door_Vashti Quiroz-Vega_love_story

It Happened In An Elevator

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

I was staying on the 10th floor of a ritzy Madison Avenue hotel in New York City. I was due in the conference room, where my presentation at a board meeting would shape my career. As I pushed the fifth floor button in the elevator commanding it to transport me to this engagement, I was entirely unaware my life would be changed forever: that a stranger would steal my heart. All of this before I had even reached my destination. Who knew so many emotions could blossom in a 4 by 7 ft. suspended box?
She entered my life on the ninth floor, hauling a suitcase on wheels. As her long, shapely legs crossed the threshold, her smile caught my breath. There was something in her glance that made my heart beat faster. A mermaid’s alluring voice said, “Ground floor, please.” She might as well have sung a lullaby. My knees faltered. What is happening to me? This is not the first beauty I’ve seen. I inhaled, remembering to breathe, and absently pressed the button, obeying her command.



I looked at my briefcase and reminded myself of the importance of my session on the fifth floor. My successful performance in this meeting would mean a promotion, a raise—all the things I had been focused on achieving. From the corner of my eye, I caught her checking me out. When I turned, she snapped her head forward and played with her hair. Does she feel it too? I swear the temperature in the small space went up a degree or two as I watched her lick her lips. The intense chemistry filled the chamber—primal, and thick enough to snuff out the air.

The elevator stopped. Talk to her! You may never get another chance. I wrestled with my id. A woman with a haggard face entered the elevator with her brood. Kids played and ran circles in the tight space, while their mother yelled at them to stop. A little boy pushed the beauty, knocking her into me. Prickly sensations coursed throughout my body. I reached out to steady her. As I touched her arm, my eyes narrowed. My pulse raced. I was on fire. Through a cacophony of shrieks and shouts I heard her say, “I’m sorry,” as she moved away a proper distance and tidied her formfitting skirt. How I envied her clothes!

The elevator stopped again. Momma and her chickadees scrambled out of the cubicle. The little boy who had shoved the fetching stranger looked over his shoulder and grinned at me, as if he knew I wanted to thank him. A few more floors, and she would leave my presence forever. As the doors closed before us, she glanced my way and giggled as she shook her head. “Kids,” I said. She nodded and lowered her eyes. She gathered her long tresses to one side, exposing her neck. She feels it too.

Once more, the elevator came to a standstill. This was the fifth floor, my floor. I clenched my jaw as I stared at my briefcase. The meeting can wait. I turned to look at her. She questioned me with her eyes, no doubt reminded that the fifth floor button was glowing when she first entered the elevator. She glanced at my briefcase and then at me again. Slowly the corners of her lips curved upwards. I imagined what they would taste like. Her face told me she knew I had to be somewhere else, but chose to ride with her instead. The doors opened, and I lost her gaze. Frustration began to set in as a woman invaded our sanctuary, her hair twisted in a severe bun. Although it was lit, the woman jabbed at the ground floor button. My body went slack. The last few floors would be spent with this intruder.

I turned my face and looked at the angel. I tried to muster the courage to speak to her. At least ask for her name. The rejection and maltreatment from beauties past rooted my being in fear and fixed my feet where they stood. Even my voice box was gripped firmly shut so as to prevent me from uttering words. Her lovely blonde hair glittered in the dim man-made radiance. I contemplated the smooth curves of her face. The silky texture of her sun kissed skin beckoned my touch.

Ding. The elevator doors slid open. More people plagued us by entering our world, but I forgave them since the alluring stranger moved closer to me to make way for the crowd. My chest heaved in rhythm with my rapid breathing. Her fragrance drifted into my nostrils, rendering me helpless. Her hips lightly brushed across my manhood, making it come to life. My body quivered. Making room for her luggage, she stood so close. She slowly turned her face toward me. We stared at each other. Speak to her! I could feel the warmth of her breath. I watched her full, rosy lips move to form words. My entire body tensed in anticipation. “This is my floor,” she said.

She might as well have stabbed me in the chest. The hoisting platform came to a halt, and my heart skipped a beat. The doors opened. One crowd departed the elevator while another multitude rushed to enter. She wove her way through the mob, slowed by her luggage. The fear that gripped my body finally released me, and I stepped forward to claim my destiny.

A hand took hold of my shoulder. “Ethan, I hope you’re ready for this meeting. Those men are sharks!” It was my boss, grinning and patting me on the back. I tried to focus on what he was saying, but my eyes kept roaming back to the captivating splendor crossing the threshold.

I gripped the handle of my briefcase tightly. “Yes sir, I am ready.” I stepped back to stand next to him and fixed my eyes on the ground. My heart turned to lead, the weight of it dragging me down. I lifted my eyes and watched her walk away. I had never longed for anything as much. Before stepping out of my life she turned and with her eyes, she kissed me goodbye.

Copyright © 2013 by Vashti Quiroz-Vega. All rights reserved.

Romance-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-short story-storytellingThe Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-short_story-storytelling-Romance

Have you ever had an experience like this? I’d love to hear about it in the comment section below. Tell me about the one that got away or the romance that almost was. ;D


It’s only water? Tell that to a drowning boy.

19 Apr
It's only water? Tell that to a drowning boy.

The rain is pouring down into the well. Wells are meant to hold water!

Hello everyone and welcome to my blog. The Basement: Robbie’s Rite of Passage is my first novel. It is a Suspense/Thriller aimed at an upper Middle Grade/ Young Adult audience (pre-teens & teens). The Basement is a coming of age story about a pre-teen named Robbie and the many issues he faces in his young life (bullying, verbal abuse, alcoholic father, puppy love . . . ) and how the encouragement and support of his mom, friends and neighborhood heroes aid him in the task of overcoming these obstacles. You will feel an array of emotions as you read this novel ranging from indignation and sorrow to laughter and delight, not to mention a bit of thrills and fright.

Please enjoy a chapter from THE BASEMENT, and let me know what you think in the comments below. Your opinions mean a great deal to me and will help me develop further as a writer. Thank you!

Joshua Rush as Robbie

Rescue Delayed

Before leaving to go get help, Nestor had cleared away the plants that concealed the well. Robbie and Barney were really beginning to worry. For a while, Robbie and Barney could look up at a circle of blue, but now the sky was somber, and rain poured down in buckets. The sun would set soon, and even the feeble light that allowed them to see each other would disappear. Robbie wondered what would happen if Nestor and the others returned after dark – would they be able to find the well again?

The boys had no choice but to wait, even though the rain did not relent and the water was rising.

“We’re going to need to stand,” Robbie said in a wobbly voice.

Barney nodded—he had also noticed the rising water. He tried repeatedly to get to his feet, but his efforts were futile. He sat rocking back and forth, wincing and groaning in pain.

Robbie passed his hands along the walls to try to find something he could hold onto. His hands came across something he believed to be part of a tree root. He scrunched his brow and pulled on the root to test its strength; it seemed to be anchored securely to the wall of the well.

“Barney, I found something attached to the wall that I can hold onto while I try to stand. It feels like tree roots. Maybe there’s something that can help you get to your feet on your side.”

Barney made efforts to pass his hands over the walls near him, but each twist and bend of his body was like sharp, hot knives slowly entering his flesh. He howled in pain and closed his eyes tightly, clenching his jaw.

“Are you okay?” Robbie asked with a worried grimace etched on his face.

“I’ll be all right.” Barney was breathless. “How about you? Can you stand up?”

Robbie grabbed the root with his right hand and pushed himself off the ground with his left arm, but an excruciating pain in his right leg prevented him from standing. As a consequence, he fell back to the wet ground and into a seated position. He groaned. He knew now he could not lean on his right leg and figured he probably fractured a bone when he fell.

The rain continued to pour, and the water level in the well kept climbing. Robbie bit the corner of his lower lip and made another attempt to get up, gripping the root with both hands and putting his whole weight on his left leg. Doing so, he was able to rise. The effort of standing had made him dizzy, and he faltered off balance. He rested his back against the wall to steady himself. As he tried to move closer to the wall, his foot slipped, and he almost fell again. When he finally got his back up against the wall of the well, he let go with one hand. He stared wide-eyed at Barney, who was almost submerged. Robbie extended his free hand. “Try to reach for my hand.”

“I can’t move. Everything hurts.” Barney grimaced in pain and moaned.

“You have to try. You’ll drown if you don’t! Please try!”

“All right, I’ll try again.” He strained with all his might to reach his hand. A screaming pain shot through his legs when he moved. His right arm throbbed, and his ribs ached terribly. Barney winced and wailed in agony. He began to wheeze as it became difficult for him to breathe. He was in bad shape. Barney moaned and shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Come on! You can do it!” Robbie encouraged him. “The water’s rising fast!”

The water level reached just above Robbie’s knees. Only Barney’s head and his shoulders were above the water. He needed to get on his feet quickly before the water covered him completely.

Barney reached his arm out as far as he could, but he could barely reach Robbie’s fingertips. Robbie’s hand was only eight inches away from Barney’s, but it might as well have been a hundred feet away. It was no use—he could not elevate himself. Even if he managed to reach the outstretched hand, Robbie was not strong enough to support his entire body weight. Barney’s broken legs could not sustain him, so he gave up trying. There was a squeaking, creaking sound when he breathed.

“Barney, don’t give up.” Robbie’s voice was heavy with sadness.

“I’m sorry I can’t get up. I really did try. I gave it my all. I think both my legs are broken and I can’t breathe right anymore.”

Robbie’s heart sank as he heard his wheezing. He bit his lip, his eyebrows drawn in. He wanted to help his friend, but he could hardly help himself. What would Superman do now? was all he could think at the moment.

It was getting dark in the well. The boys could no longer see each other. Robbie’s heart beat hard against his chest. His breathing was fast and shallow. He worried mostly about the water rising above his friend’s neck and drowning him. He lifted his eyes, but it was so dark he could not even see the opening to the well anymore. All he saw was darkness. He decided to pray.

“God, I know you can hear me even from down here. Please save my friend. I know you usually help those who help themselves. Barney did try to get on his feet, but he just didn’t have the strength to do it. Please stop the rain from coming down. Don’t allow my friend drown.”

Robbie closed his eyes while he prayed, although it would not have made a difference if he had kept them open. It was pitch black in the well. He looked up again and opened his eyes. He continued to feel big drops of rain tumble from the sky and mix with his tears.

“Barney, talk to me?”

“I’m still here, buddy.”

“Let’s keep talking to each other, just so we’ll each know the other’s all right.”

“Sure, but it’s not going to be easy for me. Every breath hurts.”

“All right, how about I just check up on you every so often. All you have to say is ‘OK’ or ‘I’m fine.’ Is that good?”

“Yes, Rob-bie, that’s fff…”

Click to purchase The Basement at amazon paperback and eBook (Kindle)

Click to purchase
The Basement at amazon
paperback and eBook (Kindle)

Click to purchase  The Basement in paperback or eBook (Nook)

Click to purchase
The Basement in paperback or eBook (Nook)