Must be on holiday … what was it … sister lives here … sister … yeah … definitely said sister … said lots of stuff … wanted someone they could trust … travelled well … wasn’t a dick … always got the shot.
Song ten ends with a salute and an exit stage left. No-one moves, including her.
Come on … come on …
A chant begins. Three words.
One
More
Song
Still, she hasn’t moved
Come on … come on … I haven’t got it yet
The lights go up. The people are at the front blend into the middle.
You might have got it
You didn’t … you didn’t get it
“Hey Tommy!”
That’s her. From the middle. But her.
“Hiya.”
“Get any the shot?”
“Think so.”
“Good man … I’ll keep an eye out for it.”
Say something … say something … too late … she’s gone
This fictional short story was written for a 50 Day Project organised by the artist Amanda Billing. I get 45 minutes to an hour (not the project’s rules, it’s just about the time I have right now) to write a story, sometime between 4.30am and 5.30am. After that, the day is no longer mine.
N.B. The sketch image for this short story was created using AI (at best, I can draw a half-decent stick man). The words are all mine.
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