War—Symphony no. 10723 by Ethan Kahana

Let thousands of people walk into the hall. They will pick up programs from smiling faces, thanking them for coming, as if they had a choice, and telling them how necessary this piece really is. Let the musicians enter the stage, not from the back but from the audience with their families crying behind them. But the conductor will enter late from backstage. Fuck yeah, he will. 

Let the principal violinist, a 20 year old boy, stand up and smile because he has been waiting his whole life for this moment, to be like his father. His single mother will cover her eyes, however, as he turns towards the musicians and presses his bow against all of the strings as hard as he can and cuts back and forth like a saw. Let the small girl, who is hearing this for the first time, yell for it to “Stop!” But someone next to her will whisper, “it hasn’t even started yet, sweetheart.” If the girl doesn’t behave, the person warns, she will be escorted out. 

With a wave of the conductor’s baton, let the first movement start off as a scherzo. Let some of the young people in the audience stand up and jump again and again, laughing to the beat as they sway their arms. The basses are plucking like crazy, the trumpets are blaring, the drums are having a blast, and the conductor is shaking his hips. But you can tell that the other instruments are getting jealous. Let them take one look at each other and just start playing as they yell. Let the audience gasp and the dancing children be escorted from the hall. The piece has truly begun. 

Let the trumpets and basses move towards the drums since the drums are stationary. Let the conductor yell at them to get back because the distribution of sound will change. But the sheet music doesn’t have them finishing their part yet. An old man in the front row, a drummer himself who has heard this piece many times before, will yell in solidarity before being escorted from the hall. 

Let the violinists stand up and run into the audience, grabbing women and children and dragging them up on stage. They don’t even play an instrument! But the violinists don’t give a damn, and they put the audience members on their laps as they play. The trumpets suddenly stop, looking at children who look eerily similar to their own. They try to warn them over and over, but the violinists wrap their arms and legs around them. So look away as they are escorted from the hall, because the trumpets can’t just stop. Not if they want to ever play again.

Let all the strings break except for a single high note from the 3rd chair in the violin section because shit never goes according to plan. The note will linger until the conductor makes a stabbing motion. Let the lights turn on slowly, signaling intermission. The remaining audience members will hold each other, tears running down their faces. They will get to stay at least another 15 minutes so they can take a bathroom break and buy popcorn and soda. 

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ETHAN KAHANA — Ethan is a recent graduate of the University of Michigan who studied data science but loves to write. He also enjoys playing and listening to jazz and classical music. You can find some of his work in Hobart, Star 82 Review, Idle Ink, Across the Margin, and The Bluebird Word. 

Art by SUSAN SOLOMON — Susan is a freelance paintress living in the beautiful Twin Cities area of Minneapolis/Saint Paul.