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Write a story that begins, ends, or changes with a song played by a busker.

Posted in Fiction on Sep 29, 2023

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✍️ 27 stories

The Newly Dead

Submitted to Contest #218

It’s 1:13 a.m. on a Monday night when Bob sends me a pro bono assignment, and I am too dead inside to spare an ounce of compassion. I am being appointed counsel to Arles Ortega and Christina Lima Ortega and their daughter Anabel who are seeking asylum from Ecuador. Another thankless task—Ecuadorians are almost always denied asylum—all they can ever prove is vague government persecution, but it’s impossible to put meat on the bones and show personal stakes.I’m still in my office on the 32nd floor of Lexington Avenue. For the pa...

37 likes 17 comments 17
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Immobilized Echoes

Submitted to Contest #218

Momentarily hooked in, by the shimmering rings,Our hearts somehow crooked.Separate worlds sometimes collide, where yours merges with mine.Maybe in the mornings grace, the lies can briefly take place.But at night, passions will burn, desires will rush.You and I, our silence will be hushed.I heard before, we are rather like puzzles, to be exact. Puzzles pieces. These puzzle pieces, in their endless diversity, possess the ability to metamorphose, to adapt to the ever-changing landscape. Yes, even though can change shapes, there exist an innate ...

16 likes 0 comments 0
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Maestra

Submitted to Contest #218

Eve followed the cobblestone to the heart of the quiet, picturesque little town. Setting down her bag and worn violin case, she looked around at the sleepy square, knowing it would soon be full of colorful chatter, heavily spiced meats, and lively music. She intended to add herself to the tuneful mix but had a stop to make first. She had heard through her travels that this town had recently burned a witch. Morbid curiosity had her moving towards the woods where the witch was rumored to have spent her last peaceful days before being torn out ...

15 likes 0 comments 0
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The Sound of Violence

Submitted to Contest #218

Hello darkness, round the bend The words are clothed in the familiar. They are imposters, I know they are wrong. But that is not all that is wrong. The music comes through in ragged asynchronous waves. My eyesight pulses dark clouds of incomprehension with every beat of my troubled heart. The tune is warped and yet I know it all too well. I heard this music when I was a child. Happier times. It was beautiful then, and it is beautiful now, but something is changed and that beauty is a terrible lament that claws in anguish at my beleaguered ...

14 likes 4 comments 4
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A Hole in my Soul

Submitted to Contest #218

I’ve got a hole in my soul  It’s getting bigger and bigger Don’t push me babe, I’ll pull the trigger Did I hear those lyrics correctly? The acoustics in the airport are terrible. The crowd around the Springsteen wannabe makes it difficult to get any closer. I’ve just arrived at Sea Tac in Seattle from Vancouver. The young Busker has set up at the end of a long corridor in front of an empty store front. He is wearing a black blazer, white shirt, tight jeans and has a Springsteenesque soul patch. His electric guitar must be connected by ...

12 likes 7 comments 7
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For Millie and Drew

Submitted to Contest #218

 I’m walking down the street, lost in my thoughts. The work week is over and I want to do is go home and drown my sorrows. Now that I’m single again, that’s about the best I can hope for.I don’t notice the busker until the toe of my shoe bumps into his guitar case.The case is open and there is some money in it. Mostly coins. I see quarters, dimes, and a few pennies. Not much in the way of currency. I see a few fives, a ten and several ones.Behind the case stands one of the least prosperous looking hillbillies that I’ve ever laid eyes on...

12 likes 5 comments 5
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The Ones You See

Submitted to Contest #218

Greg was living an enchanted life. He had a condo, a hot girlfriend, and a career that killed. He was at the top of his game and nothing was going to stop him. He walked down the cement that laid a foundation of his personal will, he was strong and able, that was bullet proof. The downtown area was a gem that had been restored and rectified to assure longevity and courage for every person that walked in it. A lullaby sounded from ahead. He walked this way often and had not come across such a song. He looked. Who was it? He saw a very old h...

10 likes 1 comment 1
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Song of the Seaside

Submitted to Contest #218

A mother/daughter travel tale from the soul. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed sharing. "So glad we are checked in here finally. Not a bad room eh mom?" I breathed emotion in my words. Mom was not young anymore, even this trip would take a lot out of her energy level. We placed our luggage down as we inspected out our new 'home' for the next week."Not bad at all. We should be very comfortable here." Martha murmured tiredness in her voice. I had already started changed into something warm. Brushed my shoulder length auburn hair, a...

9 likes 5 comments 5
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The Final Melody

Submitted to Contest #218

Has a melody ever compelled you to stop dead in your tracks, your very being gripped by an overwhelming sense of dread?This very phenomena happened to one Jeremiah Peabody, a retired military officer, during a leisurely stroll through Covent Garden on a bright September afternoon in 1922. The uncharacteristically crisp and invigorating air was filled with the unsettling sound of a frankly unremarkable busker and his trumpet, whose erratic notes, inconsistent tone, and amateur technique did more to vex rather than amuse the public on an other...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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Nothing special?

Submitted to Contest #218

There was nothing special about this day. Saturday, July 5th. Melissa was walking around downtown, looking at the tourists. They were everywhere, and she smiled a bit when she saw a mother trying to hold on to a five year old rushing away. She had nothing to do today, but was hoping that she could soon find enough cash to get off the couch at her friend Beth’s house. Beth had been good to put her up after her ex kicked her out. Well, not really. She left, after finding him in their bed with some stupid blonde. How dense was she? Why did she ...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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Can't Help Falling in Love

Submitted to Contest #218

Sussex, 2023 Arthur strolled down the narrow cobblestone street with his hands stuffed into his brown slacks. His fingers fidgeted with a small chainless silver heart locket he persistently carried around. The stones were slick from rain that fell not too long ago. Light droplets sprinkled and Arthur admired how they looked like a bunch of shooting stars in the glow of the street lights. Few clung to his thick lenses framed with thin silver, but he didn't mind. He preferred the rain, a preference his daughters and doctor disliked, due to ...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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Stopped at the Light

Submitted to Contest #218

The air outside my car registers a scorching 91 degrees. Nevertheless, there is a team of performers and street vendors standing at the intersection of Via Espana and the little street with no name that is a short cut to Calle Samuel Lewis. It is 12:00 noon and they are all trying to make a buck.Waves of heat rise from the asphalt as the three-lanes of this short block fills with the exhaust of about thirty cars, dump trucks and motorcycles, many with no mufflers. Diesel smoke, billows into the air carpeting cars and people with a fine layer...

7 likes 2 comments 2
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Striking A Chord

Submitted to Contest #218

Downtown. City sounds abound. A cacophony. I find a spot catty-corner from the McD's-. Boy, wouldn't a hot coffee be great," I say as i pull out my Hohner. Under my armpit, it warms up enough for me to go through a few scales. My sleep was restless, but dreamy melodies gave me some peace. I sit and play City of New Orleans with its "Good Morning, America" refrain. A few coins drop my way. Perhaps this day will be OK. As the morning moves ever so slowly toward noontime, strident discords become supportive drone to the higher harmony. A h...

7 likes 1 comment 1
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Should I Ever Forget

Submitted to Contest #218

Ray thought ‘fanciful’ would impress Willow for their first date. Set up by a friend, they’d only spoken by phone. Once in the restaurant, he reconsidered. Willow was visibly uncomfortable in the whimsical surroundings. Playing it safe would have been better strategy. The waiter dressed as the Mad Hatter took it too far. Unless the trajectory made a radical shift, it would be their last date. Though they raced through dinner, neither had other plans. Presenting their best faces, and keeping vulnerabilities well disguised, they became carica...

7 likes 8 comments 8
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For My Love, Victor

Submitted to Contest #218

Content Warning: Traffic Accident, DeathThere’s an old man playing on his violin, completely oblivious — or uncaring — to the chaos around him. His violin’s worn down and clearly loved. There are words engraved on the wood — For My Love, Victor.The tune’s familiar but Nathan Greene can’t think of its name. It’s slow, melancholic, dreamy, and it’s not the usual type of music that Nathan listens to; nevertheless, he stops to take it in. If he actually had any bills in his wallet, he’d approach and drop a few into the busker’s open violin case....

7 likes 7 comments 7
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