It was late. A single light was on in one of the music rooms, illuminating a girl on a stool, clutching an instrument. Faint, strumming music radiated from the door. Every now and then it stopped as the player questioned a chord or tested a new sound. Eventually, humming joined the strums.
Mary sat alone in the music room. Class had long been dismissed, and the teacher left, but here Mary sat, practicing.
With a ukulele.
Mary didn't know why she loved the ukulele so much. She could have chosen the violin. Viola. Clarinet. Even piano. But she chose the ukulele because no one else did. And she could carry it everywhere. And it was easy to play. And it could only really play happy songs. It was hard to make a ukulele sound sad.
Even so, Mary chose the ukulele because she wanted to start off with one song pertaining to one of her favorite novels, Wuthering Heights. It was a funny song, starting off as some airy ballad with synthetic, but a ukulele group had twisted it into a fun song.. Ukuleles just make things fun.
So Mary sat, learning her ukulele song. It wouldn't be long before she could actually sing and play at the same time.
Mary sat alone in the music room. Class had long been dismissed, and the teacher left, but here Mary sat, practicing.
With a ukulele.
Mary didn't know why she loved the ukulele so much. She could have chosen the violin. Viola. Clarinet. Even piano. But she chose the ukulele because no one else did. And she could carry it everywhere. And it was easy to play. And it could only really play happy songs. It was hard to make a ukulele sound sad.
Even so, Mary chose the ukulele because she wanted to start off with one song pertaining to one of her favorite novels, Wuthering Heights. It was a funny song, starting off as some airy ballad with synthetic, but a ukulele group had twisted it into a fun song.. Ukuleles just make things fun.
So Mary sat, learning her ukulele song. It wouldn't be long before she could actually sing and play at the same time.