4 1/2 Minutes

Four and a half minutes is as long as it takes to know. The possibility that the artistry and talent last displayed may be the winner of the competition for that category. The privilege to win is one thing every competitor secretly wishes to obtain. The honor of actually winning what is known as Merit brings teenagers to tears. Although the days before the winners’ names scroll on the screen, the competition takes place. Hundreds of people meander from room to room to watch the different talents displayed, and if anyone gets the honor to be in the room the minute a competitor wins merit, it is truly breathtaking. The beauty of such amazing talent displayed is the joy of the competition.

For four and a half minutes, one competitor stands in front of the lifted piece of plastic, displaying all short stories. Four and a half minutes gave enough time. To read bits and pieces of the other stories and wonder if the piece that came from the very hands that belonged to the contestant was good enough. If the story told fit the theme, if commas followed the rules, if the many eyes that peered over it seconds before it sent was enough. Did the heart-breaking story influence anyone or had it just been a silly story thought up by the creative mind of a teenager. To tell of how much it hurts to have a love for someone as the character did. Idea’s tick through the mind and nerves begin to rise as pieces of another story are being read the four and a half minutes becomes too much and the only choice is to leave. There is no more thinking about it, no more reading once the four and a half minutes are over. The judging of the entries took place weeks ago; there was nothing left to do, but wait until the four and a half horrifying minutes that await the day to follow.

For another four and a half minutes, the vibrating strings collaborate with the painted fingerings of a master, designed to make a melody so stunning, so marvelous, brilliant and beautiful that for four and a half minutes the whole world falls silent. There is awe across the globe at such enchanting music constructed through the mixed feelings of a human being. Nobody blinked, or dared to breathe throughout the room.

For four and a half minutes a smile spread across a mothers face, pride and joy in a performance of her very flesh and blood. She watched this human being grow up, guided the steps to be here today, and she couldn’t have expected anything more than what she hears for short, but long lasting amount of time. 

For four and a half minutes, a heart aches as a look of one who is falling hard and fast spread across the innocent flesh. Innocent flesh is revealing any hidden feelings, but only for four and a half minutes. All thoughts, all worries of the writing entry put in by the one who is falling, they slip away and suddenly all thoughts are fixed on the master of the stringed instrument who for four and a half minutes was lost in the jumbled emotions.

In front of the performer sits a panel of judges. Not exactly in awe as the rest of the world is, but close to it. Plastic sticks lined with black ink scribbles across their individual sheets to state any imperfections that is currently on display, during the four and a half minutes. Attention completely focused on one person for four and a half minutes.

By the end of those magical seconds the critiques are impressed, the entire room motionless, breathless, and speechless. As the final second of the four and a half minutes resounds in the room, the artist behind it, is clearly no longer with us, but lost in the music. Last note rings out as the artists head releases downward and all those who are standing in wonder brake from the spell they are under erupt into a new chorus of applause and cheering.

Friends and relatives complemented the competitor as they file out of the room for the next performance on their highlighted and very strict schedules; four and half minutes make a difference in these schedules, and this next performance is the last performance of the day. Tomorrow there will be the results.

The final day ends with closing ceremonies; the room is dark as names of friends and different competitors in different categories scroll over the three large screens. Screaming comes from different sections of the room as different names appear mechanically in front of the audience. These four and a half minutes today are different. All the glorious beauty on display, the beautiful melody played, the worry and nervousness was a part of yesterday. Watching a competitor become a winner in the four and a half minutes of the day, everyone in the room  knows what they just heard in their own minds, but don’t admit defeat at hearing the winning piece, that was a part of yesterday. But today… today is the day of truth.

This day the four and a half minutes are an emotional roller coaster. The category materializes on screen. String solo. Four and a half minutes starts now. The names of those going south in August, scroll on the screen. A desired name appears on the screen, but the time isn’t up. The sight of the name releases a scream of delight. Now for the nail biter. Everyone knows what coming, merit is. The highest honor in such a competition is the merit award. Everyone desperately wants it, but only few get it. Hope of the name everyone craves for appears but only one group screams. Everyone takes a moment of silence, then there is a sudden drop of the artists heart as the name of the performer appears on screen in front of the whole room.

However, the four and a half minutes aren’t over. Shock for the performer sets in, there is rocking back and forth, hands over the face as tears start to come. The realization plays over and over, and for what seems like forever the whole room is stopped and congratulates the merit winner as it all sinks in and the moment is frozen in time but only for the soloist. The whole room has now moved on. There is still two more minutes left of the four and a half.

The category. Those going to Louisville. The very familiar name, the one seen every day of the writer’s life is on the screen. As it scrolls there is a scream and nobody realizes what just happened until it sinks in. There is chatter about the possibility of merit, there is disbelief in the air, either way, south was the hope and that was good enough. Merit would just be an extra reward. The scrolling is over the highest achievement of a competitor goes to… the whole world seems silent and seems to take a deep breath at once and exhales with a scream. The name appears no reason for disbelief anymore. There is no time for it to sink in; tears come along with congratulations down the row of students. Along with the shock still on the face of the writer and the artist are hugs and as the final seconds of the four and a half minutes ends, their eyes meet. Two writers; one of notes and the other of words. Two artists; one of stories and the other of melodies. Two merit winners in four and a half minutes. Smiles are spread at each other; tears are still streaming in shock at the success of such a weekend. They congratulate each other with a smile and tears in their eyes, on a job well done, until their next four and a half minutes together, just four and a half months away.