Why I Play

The sonorous roar of the packed crowd reverberated through the soft koa wood of my guitar, harmonizing, amplifying, and prolonging the death of the final G still bravely holding its ground in the trenches of the third.

The reinforcement of voices wasn’t in time to save the note—who died glorious and pure—and I found myself caught on the banks of an emotional stream whose dam had suddenly, and violently, broke.

The warm spotlight left me with a final, radiant embrace as the house lights came up and I saw no more than a handful of close friends crammed into the shitty dive bar, cheering louder than Madison Square Garden at capacity.


Written for Week 55 of Three Line Tales. It’s been a while, but it’s nice to be back! please leave a like and a comment if you’re so inclined!

Photo by Edwin Andrade

For a similar flash fiction piece I wrote last year, check out Christmas Eve Concert

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9 comments

  1. Jennie · February 17

    That was a wonderful post.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Patricia · February 17

    That’s what friends do! Good story.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Ben · February 17

    Lovely!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Singledust · February 18

    All you need a trusty guitar and a few loyal friends. Liked it much.

    Liked by 1 person

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