Instrument

The man took me to the room and is just looking at me now. What is so weird about me I wonder. I can't really look at my own body, so I don't know if there is some sort of tattoo on me.

The man then puts me down on a wooden table at the very edge and then takes out a… bow? Is that a bow?

What he has taken out looks like a metal rod that was connected end to end with a string so tight, that it bent the rod into making an arch. So, it looks like a bow now.

I wonder if he's going to make arrows out of me. That shouldn't be right. I should be way too think to make arrows. I wonder why the bow then.

The man put the bow of the string on top of me around the end where part of my body was out of the corner of the table.

Then, he started rubbing me with the string, going back and forth.

Oh, that's not a bow. He's trying to cut me. That must be a cutting instrument. I can see the man struggle as he tries to cut the rough part of my end.

Hmm, does he want my end to be perfectly flat? Does he want a good-looking cross-section? I wonder what he's trying to make. Hopefully, I'm not a random piece of firewood.

Nah, he wouldn't go to such length as to put me in the sun for days to use me as a fire— actually, no. That's exactly what a person who wants firewood would do.

Damn, did he dry me out in the sun to make me firewood? Goddammit! Please don't let that be true.

After a few minutes, he finally cut through one end of me and turned me around to cut off the other end of my as well.

With so much cut-off, I will probably be a little bit over 2 feet in length now. I should be able to guess what he's making me into, right? Why can't I think of anything?

Once he was done cutting either end of my body, the man looked at me again and took out something from his bag.

What's that I wonder? It looks like the pointy iron rod from last time, but it looks a bit more… big than last time.

The man called in the young man and had him grab onto me while he put the pointed end of the rod.

And then,

~TOK~

With a single strike, he put a hole close to one end of my body. A hole? I feel like I should know what he's making by now.

By the time he makes 6 more holes on the other side of my body, I know what he's making.

He's turning me into a damn flute, isn't he? All this work, all the days of laying in the sun, suffering from the wind and rain, all just to get turned into a fcking Flute.

Great.

And here I was interested in seeing what this man did with all the bamboo. Damn you human, you could've at least turned me into a strong weapon or something.

Why a flute?

The man worked on me a bit more, made holes in me, and is now starting to polish me.

Why the hell are you so sweaty? It was me who took all the pain here you know? Even though I don't really feel pain, I lost part of my body.

That makes me wonder actually. That man cut me, right? Then why don't the cut-off part of my body see or hear? Are they… not me anymore? Just because I am cut, does it mean that whatever I lose stops being me?

Hmm… then why do I have vision on this body then? Since it was cut off from my main body, shouldn't I have already lost contact with it?

The man then found some piece of wood to put on one end of my body where there was only one hole.

Then… he kissed me.

YUCK! What the hell?! Stop it, you idiot! I don't want to kiss a man. Stop it! Bring a girl or something.

DON'T KISS ME!!

Suddenly, sweet-sounding music comes out of me. OH?! Right, I forgot that I am a flute now.

It doesn't take away the fact that he kissed me, but I do sound quite nice. I might even fall asleep at this rate.

Oh, the kid that was supposed to be holding me has already fallen asleep. I must really sound very good then.

The man took out a small, brown pouch from his side. What's the pouch for? Does it hold money?

He then brings out a small red string from the pouch and puts it around one of my ends. Oh, he is trying to make me good. Yes, do it. Make me look pretty okay?

The guy mulls over the strings, brushes me, and even puts some sort of color on me. He's doing so much for me.

I wonder how he keeps bringing out so many things from that small pouch though. Am I not seeing clearly? Is that actually a big pouch but it's really far away?

The man works on me for a bit longer, trying to make me look very attractive. Hehe, I must sound really nice then for him to treasure me like that.

I bet none of the other flutes got this sort of treatment.

…

All of the other flutes got the exact same treatment. It's been about an hour now, and the man has us all in a basket in his room.

I see about 20 other bamboo flutes that all have the red strings just like me and look really pretty too.

Dammit! I really thought it would just be me.

The man then carries the basket full of us on his head and puts it on his head. From what I can guess, he's likely on his way to sell us.