The Virtuoso

"He is back in town!" was all it took to get people to cheer for him wherever he performed—in theaters and concert halls.

Ever since he was four years old, Morgan has been a guitarist. Whenever he had the choice, he would always pick that guitar over toys. At the young age of 18, he performed in his first concert, and he has remained in the lead ever since.

thousands of performances worldwide during the course of his more than 30-year career. He had played practically every guitar in existence, but his favorite was the red, solid wood guitar that his grandfather had made especially for him. Being a skilled and well-known craftsman, his late grandfather made the guitar in his own workshop, so it wasn't branded.

Because it was his grandfather's final gift to him, the guitar, which he referred to as "the extension of his own hands," held great sentimental value. He hardly ever played that guitar outside of concerts and special events. He played it at his wedding the last time.

Morgan, who is fifty years old and a little worn out, made the decision to participate in his final three shows in his hometown for free. The only problem was that he insisted on using his unique guitar to play all three.

Guitars can last a lifetime with proper upkeep and frequent playing. However, because this guitar was kept in better condition than played, the wood grew brittle and the strings became a little loose. Everyone who knew about it, including his manager, kids, and wife, asked and convinced him not to play that guitar during the performance.

'Letting go is an important part of loving' said his wife. ' Your image of 32 years is at stake. Lets keep this guitar and pass this on to our son. You have millions of other guitars to perform with. Its You who is special not the guitar.'

However, he was adamant that he would only play that guitar if he were to perform. He announced that he would play one final gig with his guitar and decided to cancel two shows due to pressure from his family and friends.

The city was covered in the posters. As soon as registrations opened, the show was completely booked.

The day came. With 500 spectators allowed, the hall was packed, not a single seat empty. People throughout the city turned on their televisions to watch the "Great Virtuoso Morgan" perform for the very last time, and the media was present to cover the event.

The curtains parted. His band took the stage. With Morgan on lead vocals, his band would play for an hour as part of the traditional format of the show. Morgan would next play the guitar alone for fifteen minutes.

The band was about to finish up. It was time for Morgan's final fifteen minutes. He blew everyone away with his timeless riff. proceeded to play the compositions he had written. When the final section, which featured the "Flamenco," finally arrived, the audience was silent, mesmerized by the aura, and slow applause took over.

Flamenco is a type of Spanish music that demands quick hand coordination and razor-sharp precision. The audience began to clap in time with the beats. As usual, the show was magical.

However, the Virtuoso was unaware that his favorite guitar's strings were quivering. Morgan realized that the guitar occasionally made a shilling voice, but his hands of magic compensated for it. Both the speed and the claps were picking up speed.

However, four of the six strings gave up and broke off the fret board as Morgan was nearly finished with his piece.

There was silence while the Claps stopped. Many were still attempting to piece together what had happened. With a sense of betrayal, Morgan was staring at the guitar and fighting back tears. His first-row seatmate got up and hurried backstage.

When the curtains finally closed, the audience was unsure whether to applaud or leave in silence. Then, Morgan's son, who was seated in the front row, broke the silence by clapping. The audience applauded him with the most majesty the hall had ever seen as they followed him.

One by one, the audience began to disperse, and Morgan's son hurried backstage. Morgan, broken from within, continued to stare at the guitar behind the curtains. His spouse hurried over to give him a hug. Morgan was still baffled by what had transpired. Over 200 shows in 32 years, not a single error. Was this really required to occur during his previous performance?

Morgan's wife, who goes by his name, gave him a brief kiss, but she did not respond. Thus, his spouse vigorously shook him and yelled his name. The first thing that came out of him when he looked at her was, "Why...?"

Total quietness. With his beloved guitar dragging on the stage floors, he began to slowly make his way off the platform. His son arrived and stood by his mother, observing his father's utterly distraught state.

Morgan continued to walk despite being surrounded by all of his band members. There was a loud bang, and everyone was staring at each other, confused and alarmed.

They saw Morgan was banging his guitar on the stage floors. His eyes were full of rage. The band members and his wife rushed to stop him but in vain. He broke the guitar into pieces and took out a lighter from his pocket and set the guitar ablaze. The management of the hall with utter hardship got hold of Morgan when suddenly he stopped trying to free himself from their grasp and started to laugh. And then suddenly after seconds of that evil laughter, he broke down and became unconscious.

A virtuoso Of Morgan's stature didn't deserve an ending like this. All his years of Image was staked just for the reason he loved something beyond its capacity. Maybe, he should have let gone of the guitar at the right time. Maybe, he should have listened to his wife.

Letting go at the right time indeed in an important part of loving.

Ciao...