The Band Plays On


This is my response to the Friday Fictioneers prompt for October 10. The challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by the photo prompt. Play along by writing your own, reading others and/or commenting on the flashes we fictioneers create.

This week’s photo is courtesy of our hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. My story this week weighs in at 99 words.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Band Plays On

Teri took a deep breath and opened the door. Light from the windows illuminated her son’s music room. Layers of dust shrouding recording equipment served as a grave reminder. She would never again shout for him to turn it down. Today, all she wanted was an opportunity to hear “that noise” once more.

“Honey.” Teri jumped at the sound of her husband’s voice. “You okay?”

Teri nodded as he wrapped his arms around her. “I saw his two friends at Best Buy yesterday. They’re working on a new recording. I think they need this stuff more than we do.”

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32 thoughts on “The Band Plays On

  1. Grave reminder. Powerful image 😦

  2. Very lovely and sad piece of writing. I love the way you down-play you and don’t tell us what’s happened, but let us guess.

  3. That was haunting. Seeing the room full of all those reminders. Great take on the prompt.

    • storydivamg says:

      Thanks so much, Helena. I was, perhaps foolishly, concerned about writing a story about a woman’s dead son after I realized that Rochelle took this photo in her son’s music room. We will trust that such silly, superstitious notions are “all in my head.” Glad you enjoyed it.

      All my best,
      Marie Gail

  4. Yes .. put it all to use.. the best legacy there is.. you told us all without telling.. that takes skill, and as a reader I will fill in the necessary details..

  5. Nan Falkner says:

    Dear Marie Gail, I love the term “grave reminder.” You are really a fantastic writer. Thanks for help with mine too. Nan 🙂

  6. Ellespeth says:

    What a great title for this piece! At the end, I’m left wondering what went through the mother’s mind – or heart – that moved her forward. Endless possibilities.
    Ellespeth

  7. margirene says:

    Hard to know when it’s time to let go. Poor Teri. Poignantly told.
    Marg

  8. Dear Marie Gail,

    This one took my breath away. Of course it is my son’s music room.
    You captured the grief without hitting us over the head with a gravestone. I could relate to this Teri. Good for her husband for seeing the need to move on. Well done. Brava!

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    • storydivamg says:

      Thanks, Rochelle. I thought twice before posting this particular response to the prompt because I knew it to be your son’s music room. But my muse seemed to want it this way. Glad the emotion was held in check enough to work for you.

      All my best,
      Marie Gail

  9. MG, what a wonderful story. So many different levels of emotions layered into it. Great job.

  10. Layers of dust shrouding This says it all . Well done.

  11. Dear Marie Gail, there are so many layers of sadness within the dust. Beautifully written.

  12. Such a painful thing that would be! Wonderfully written.

  13. kirizar says:

    We had an eerily similar take on the photo. I had a hard time boiling mind down to 100 words. Yours has such an easy flow. As if you knew what you were going to say before you started writing.

    • storydivamg says:

      Thanks for reading and commenting. This one just begged to be written. I’m glad it worked for you. Usually my 100-word stories start out with 150 or so words. The process of paring them down does wonders for the flow.

      All my best,
      Marie Gail

  14. subroto says:

    Touching and poignant story.

  15. Very nice. The sadness comes across so quickly and then so crushingly when she sees his friends at the store.

  16. Sarah Ann says:

    Like the double meaning in ‘grave reminder.’ Hopefully letting her son’s equipment go will help her move on. A very touching piece.

  17. rgayer55 says:

    A very tightly written piece. I felt like I was in the room looking over her shoulder when I read this. Well done.

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