Prompt: Instrument, Goosebumps, Flowers

Nora gazed up at the large display case, her soft brown eyes, large orbs of wonder and intrigue. Lights glimmered behind the glass window, bouncing off the sleek hardwood of the instrument. Everything about it was gorgeous, from the curve of its wood, to the length of the taught strings. The bow was posed beside it, leaning against the wood as if they were inseparable partners, bound by a single vow.

"Nora." Her mother's voice drifted in one ear and out the other. People shuffled around her, some bumping her out of their path. Any other day, she'd have spoken her mind, just the way her father had taught her.

"You've got to stand up for yourself, sweetheart."

His tone would be serious, and his eyes would churn, telling her there was no room for argument.

"If you don't, well, I'd hate to see others take advantage of your brilliant brain."

Nora's hand pressed against the frosty glass, winter having staked its claim to every shop window in the city. Her hand-me-down gloves did little to prevent the cold beast from seeping down to her bones, but she had little care on the matter. She wanted that instrument. She needed the instrument with every fiber of her being, and she didn't even know what it was.

"Hey, are you listening?" Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing Nora's gaze to the lean woman. Blonde strands of hair were piled high atop her head. A few strands had come loose, hanging beside her face in loose curls. "If you don't keep up, you'll get lost. Saints, I have a headache just imagining what your father would say." She rolls her eyes heavenward. "I'd never hear the end of it from that man." There's a chuckle to her voice, her tone softening. The corner of Nora's mouth lifts as she looks back to the display.

"What instrument is this?"

"It's a Viola. I hear it makes the most haunting, beautiful sound you've ever heard." There was nothing to back the statement. No proof or facts that Nora could rely on. She had never heard the wooden beauty for herself, and yet she believed it; with every fiber of her being, she knew her mother had heard right.

Her fingers scrunched against the glass; an itch to hold it in her hands grew, becoming a wild beast inside her. The movement didn't go unnoticed by her mother.

"Come, we've still got things to do before the show tonight, and I want time to practice before it begins." Her mother ushered her forward, away from the window. A part of Nora's heart stayed behind as she watched the shop get further and further away, crowds of people obscuring it from view.

***

Nora sat in the back room, waiting for her parents to come from the center stage. The audience had loved their performance, more so than usual. Every time she'd heard a ravenous round of applause or the crowd gasping in unison, she'd been unable to contain her smile.

They're Louis' best acrobats.

The doors opened, and her parents entered with a flourish. They were always ones for dramatic flare. Both their chests were heaving, enormous smiles plastering their face, foreheads glimmering with sweat. In Nora's eyes, they always looked their best after a performance; there was always a glow around them. She could never pinpoint just what it was.

"What did you think, sweetheart?" Her father kissed the crown of her head.

"You were both stunning."

He barked out a laugh, moving around his daughter and taking a seat at his dressing table. "Stunning. Where does she learn to speak like that?" He looked to her mother. "It ain't me, and it certainly ain't you."

"What's that supposed to mean, darling?" Her mother's baby blues narrowed as her body leaned forward, hands on hips. Her lips twitched, the underlying smile fighting to rise to the surface.

"Nothing, nothing. Nora," he turned to her, the topic change so obvious it was almost painful to the girl. "Your mom and I have a surprise for you."

Her brows drew together. That was odd. Her birthday was months away, and there was no reason for any celebration. Her eyes roamed over both her parents' features, taking in the adrenaline swirling in their gazes. Whether left over from the show or an outcome of this surprise, she wasn't sure.

"What is it?" Possibilities turned over in her mind, one right after the next. She hoped they wouldn't try to get her to perform with them again. The first, and only time, she'd attempted it had been a nightmare. It took five people to get her from that tightrope. Ever since then, she couldn't look at tall buildings the same.

Her parents shared a glance, both of them bursting like a child on Christmas morning. Her mother nodded, and she watched as her father leaned down below his dressing table. Nora peered around, trying to see what he could have hidden under it.

Her mouth fell open as the black leather caught on the lights, promises of adventure hidden in its casing. The beat of her heart echoed in her ears as all other sounds faded away. She knew exactly what was in it. Her hands shot out, fingers curling around the case's edge. Nora's eyes shot to her parents, their faces split with grins so large she vaguely wondered if it hurt.

"Go on,"

"Open it." They said, and she didn't need to be told twice. Her fingers skimmed the smooth material, making a trail to the silver clasp. Blood rushed past her ears, and a tingling sensation pricked at the base of her neck. Gooseflesh rose over her arms, chills layering her skin. She breathed out and opened it.

The small instrument shimmered, as if saying it's greeting. Nora's eyes ate up its beauty, taking in the taught strings and fine, smooth finishings. It sang to her, even while its strings remained silent. The bow lay beside it, and she reached out, skimming the soft hairs with the pads of her fingers.

Three daffodils sat in the case, lying on top of the Viola. Nora's chest swelled, her nose twitching as the hot sting of tears built behind her eyes. She fingered each flower, each bursting with a white outside and golden inside.

"How?" Her gaze lifted to her parents. "This must have-"

"Doesn't matter." Her father said, reaching out and resting his hand over hers. "You deserve it, sweetheart."

A tear trickled from her eye, followed by another, and another, until her petite shoulders shook. Her mother wrapped her arms around Nora, pulling her close, running her hands through the girl's hair. Memories of when she was a tiny child flickered through her thoughts and the tears came faster.

Her parents were too good to her. She didn't deserve them. Her eyes fell to the Viola, resting in its case. It called out to her, begging to be played. She chewed on her bottom lip. She may not deserve her parents, but she would prove herself to them one day, and she'd make them proud.