Friday Fictioneers – Tuner

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Photo by Björn Rudberg

It’s cold here, I thought.
So after every song, I have to adjust my strings.
The guitar tends to go out of tune due to the temperature.

She said she doesn’t feel anything anymore.
So every time we saw each other, I tried something different.
Maybe I’d hit the mark and be in tune with her disposition

Strings get fragile too.
The loosening and stretching wear them down.
And with one slight turn, I broke a string.

I get fragile too.
The stretches I did wore me down.
And with that final empty look, I broke down.

I’m done here. I don’t want to play anymore.

 

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For more flash fictions based on this image, check here.

 

 

 

Friday Fictioneers – Rhythm

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Image courtesy of Douglas M. MacIlroy

Blaring alarm when the clock strikes 7

Sweeping bristles against the teeth

Pattering water in the shower

Whispering grumble of the car engine

Off-sync drumming of footsteps on the streets

Splattering coffee against the paper cup

Mocking ding of the elevator

Marching keys of the keyboard

Brooming of the printer head

Scraping of the fork against the Chinese take out box

Marching keys of the keyboard

Brooming of the printer head

Freeing ding of the elevator

Whispering sighs of the car engine.

Music of the tiny running footsteps…

Creaking of the front door door…

Heavenly giggles of children…

Laughter…

Home.

 

 

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An ode to the ideal tune and rhythm of life.

For more entries on this prompt, check here.