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Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

10.3.16

MUSIC OF THE SPHERES - flash fiction

I wrote this week's flash fiction this afternoon over a pot of tea in Tesco's cafe, and it's another 'instant story' - straight from my pen to you with minimal alterations. I hope you enjoy it, and please do leave a comment.
Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog - https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ - and to Emmy L Gant who took the photograph which prompted our stories.

MUSIC OF THE SPHERES

Her singing surpassed the music of the spheres and he heard the call from the far side of the sun. Flying at the speed of light, they met in the stardust of Saturn’s rings, then danced their mating ballet between the circling planets, her veils wafting inimitable colours over the night sky.

They came together in a burst of meteoric brilliance and sank in perfect synchrony to Earth, where she laid their egg. It hatched beneath the rarefied light of a blue moon and they bore it skywards.

The morning sun revealed only the skeletal remains of a shell.

21.1.16

THE CLEANER - a 100 word story

THE  CLEANER

Nobody laid a finger on the clavichord after Charlotte’s accident, and when Sir Richard opened the house to the public the instrument was imprisoned behind posts and silken ropes. It languished forgotten, yearning for the past glory of its parlour days. 
Each year its soul died a little.

Then Leo joined the cleaning staff. A cheerful lad, he tended the antiques wielding his polishing cloths and loving everything equally - until one evening sunset turned the clavichord to gold. 
Glancing round guiltily, Leo lifted the lid, and as music flowed out into the empty room the clavichord’s soul sang again.
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I wish I had room in my home for this beautiful little instrument - there's even space for a glass of wine to one side!  This photo comes courtesy of Jan W Fields, and was posted on this blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ as a prompt for Friday Fictioneers - an online group of roughly a hundred writers worldwide who use the weekly prompt to write 100-word stories.
This is not as easy as you might think - follow the blue frog trail from Rochelle's site to read some other stories. After you've commented on mine, of course!

26.3.15

MISSING MAVIS - a 100 word story


Friday Fictioneers is the brainchild of Rochelle - go to her blog to follow the Blue Frog trail and read other writer's takes on the photograph below.  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
The following story is what the picture prompted me to write.

MISSING MAVIS

David put his pint down half-finished. “Fetch your instruments, lads.”
“What – on a Sunday?”
“Just get them – I have a feeling.”
David’s intuition was seldom wrong so they knocked back their own drinks and trooped out to the park.

When the last note faded away into the night air they heard sobbing, and David found an elderly man sitting on a bench. “You all right, sir?”
“I courted Mavis by that bandstand.” The old man squared his shoulders and confessed, “I was going to the river until your music brought me to my senses. May I buy you a drink?”

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I have entered the lists for the April A-Z Challenge - to blog every day for a month (with Sundays off) using the letters of the alphabet as a guide. My chosen subject is Tenerife, with lots of photographs and my own, slightly skewed, point of view.
Please do pop in and leave a comment to encourage me to keep going!


9.10.14

HOPE - a story in 100 words

After a hectic week celebrating two birthdays - my husband's and my daughter's - here I am again with a story prompted by a photo on -
http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
HOPE

Molly eased herself into the chair, careful not to move it from the dents in the carpet. Her feet only just reached the floor.
She spread her fingers over the keys, imagining younger, sinewy hands, closed her eyes and air-played a song.
 Painful tears dripped onto her blouse.

The door opened, but it was only Paul.
“You’re always in here – I’m getting rid of this stuff.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“It’s been two years.”
“He’ll come home.”

Paul flicked the cymbal as he left.
The sound vibrated through Molly’s soul before soaring out into the world - a message of love and hope.