All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Other Child
You probably don't know me. Although you probably know my brother. If you know not his name, then you've heard his music. I have faded into the background over time. But my brother's fame has continued to rise. Even decades after his death. I suppose it will continue even after my time has come. My brother was a child prodigy, better than some of the greatest composers of history. That's what the newspapers said. The public was shocked at the amount of music he composed. And all by himself, too. That's what the public said. But what the newspapers and public did not know was that not all of his works were done alone. He himself taught me how to compose. Father would not teach me. To the world, composing is simply not for young ladies. But to me, it was everything.
When my brother and I would compose side by side, that always resulted in works of music that had seemed to come from heaven itself. We would both write the lines, commenting on each other's parts from time to time. We created music that was truly beautiful. But, in the end, it was only his name signed on the paper we created together. For I was a young lady, and young ladies cannot compose. That is what I have always been told. I truly do hope though, that maybe someday someone will recognize that there is more than one person's handwriting. People have forgotten about me. They have too soon forgotten that there was not just one Mozart child, but two. I am the other child. The other Mozart.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
I wrote this short narrative about Nannerl Mozart. She was 5 years older than her younger brother, Wolfgang Mozart. She too was a child prodigy, although not quite as young. She was not allowed to compose because she was a girl, although experts claim that there are differences in handwriting in some of Wolfgang Mozart's works. They claim that this is the handwriting of Nannerl Mozart, her name not signed simply because women weren't allowed to compose. I tried to write how I think she would have felt, staying in the background while her brother became more and more famous. Hope you enjoyed it. ( please let me know if this was the wrong category for this. I wasn’t quite sure what to categorize it as)