FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~The Set Back~

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/04/23/25-april-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, have a listen.

Here’s my contribution:

The Set Back

Marco ran his arpeggiation with learned alacrity, the tones so delicious that Gerald found he had ceased his accompaniment and was simply savoring the effect. With no hint of arthritic hindrance, Marco plucked away, eyes closed, head slightly canted, lilting along with a subtle curl to his lips.

It is true, music does soothe the savage, and in this fleeting moment Gerald was placated. Not a slip in nearly thirty evenings. But for all his strength Gerald’s will was weakening. And those lips curving, smug, pompous–was Marco laughing? The rhythm of Marco’s nodding head said yeeesssss.

Laughing.

At you!

jKb

 

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Wasted Silence~

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/10/23/25-october-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, listen to the sound of silence.

Here’s my contribution:

Wasted Silence

Sharon began suffering transient yet debilitating migraines just after her 38^th birthday. The university physicians tested, then verified; the proliferating tumor was inoperable. These experts diagnosed her a death sentence.

Sharon wept.

In the following weeks the blinding lights and piercing throbs which tormented her evolved into sounds, at first discordant tones and dissonant melodies, then finally they blossomed into full, gorgeous symphonies. The cancer was killing Sharon, yet she embraced it, for never had she any musical talents.

Upon her deathbed Sharon wept anew. She considered this glorious music wasted on someone like her, someone who could not share.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Prey Or Other~

I am travelling and do not have easy or reliable access and cannot follow my regular format. However, this prompt did it’s job so I am huddled beneath some shade, sipping beer from a plastic cup, and writing on my cell phone, hoping to attach all this inside the hotel business office at some point.

A thought from last eve…ever wonder why hundreds of zombies only shuffle after those fleeing teens? Have you ever seen the fireworks in Disney then tried to leave quickly?

Here’s this weeks contribution:

Prey Or Other

The piano man stroked keys favoring ebony at this St. Augustine bar. Women shimmered in candle light, writhing a smokey coital grind. In a nook round an island of mounded glassware with a smoldering center, Cleveland engaged the traveler. He wore a tight collar fronted in white. Serpentining rosary were choked by restless fingers.

The two held palaver.

“It’s not I who needs saving, friend.”

“The drink is a demon’s bite, as a vampire steals life in sips.”

“If it’s your mission to save my soul, good sir, speak plainly. But first, play us a Godly hymn.”

jKb