I was invited (well, not personally, but still…) to join the Fandango’s Friday Flashback!

Fandango scrolls back, every Friday, and gives a second chance to a post he had published on the same date the year before. I thought it was a great way to remember some of the stuff I did a while back, and I decided to participate…

So here it is!

Previously posted on November 29th of 2017, here’s a fiction piece from two-years-ago Me. I hope you’ll enjoy it!

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The audience gave a warm applause, as he stepped on the stage, holding his guitar. It was late, and in the darkness of the pub, people were eager to drink his words by the pint. He played there every other night, and he attracted a crowd of regulars and new faces, that enjoyed his skillful picking, and melancholic singing.

An expecting silence settled in the room, as he sat on the stool, and his lips approached the microphone. She knew exactly how the gig would go. He enjoyed talking to the crowd just as much as he liked giving his show.

He would tell them tales of love and life… Would tell them about his love, the girl he could never satisfy, her. People would coo and follow his fingers strumming the guitar’s strings, waiting for more. Always more…

At one point, she thought she couldn’t take anymore of his dolent storytelling. She knew his act on the stage was just that, a play, to get people in the right mood for his folk songs. But still… His constant doubting hurt her terribly.

“I’ll never make it to the major leagues, Babe!” How many times had she heard that? As if she was standing by his side just waiting patiently to live a life of luxuries, sipping Champagne in their private jet.

She didn’t want a castle, with butlers and maids. She just wanted him to hold her at night, believing he would do it every night until they got all wrinkled and old together… She wanted his doubts to fade away. In vain…

The thundering applause shook her out of her thinking. Watching him on the scene from her seat in the back of the room, she felt proud. He looked good in the spotlight, sipping on a beer offered by a lady sitting next to the stage.

She didn’t feel jealous. She knew she could… she would have left long before, if she hadn’t loved him deeply. His natural charms paid the rent, and she was ok with that. How could she not be? That’s how he had caught her attention one evening, years ago…

As the first chords of his last song resonated in the bar, she subtly got up, and sneaked out of the building. Walking back to their modest apartment, listening to the sound of the fresh snow under her soles, she smiled at the thought of seeing him join her again, later.

 

#NovemberNotes2017 – Just hold me * Maria Mena

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In response to November Notes Writing Challenge by  Sarah Doughty of Heartstring Eulogies, Rosema from A Reading Writer and Máh from Writing is my Pensieve.❤

 

 

You can see the original post here.