Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I can hear the music but I can’t tell where it’s coming from maybe a violin but the sound is faint and the quality is not good so I’m really not sure and I don’t have an ear for music anyway it’s hot in here I feel like my skin is burning even though it’s dark when I was a kid I felt like this that time I had chicken pox but you can’t get them again can you whatever happened to that purple bicycle I had haven’t thought about that bike in years garage sale probably handlebars had glow in the dark tape on them my hair would blow in the breeze pedaling full speed around the block as if monsters were chasing me and they might have been I had a lot of hair in those days everyone wore it long my ears didn’t feel sunshine for many a summer but it never prevented me from hearing all the music if I reach as far as I can really stretching my arms maybe I can touch the sound bring it closer and identify just what it is I’m hearing did I leave the radio on when I’m alone I do that sometimes because solitude is not my favorite state of being it’s funny even if I don’t want to talk to people which I don’t sometimes I still like to have people around which makes me the world’s worst party guest at times but that’s better than being a chatterbox who rambles on and on about politics god I hate to talk politics but I can tune out the voice noise and then I hear the music again no it’s not a violin but some other stringed instrument reminds me of that processed elevator music which I hate and which is now all I can think about my ears popped in the elevator we kept going up up up I was six and it kind of freaked me out you could feel the elevator cables jiggle how long does it take to get to the top floor anyway dad I want to get out now listen to the music son we’re almost there OK that wasn’t so bad and look at that view I can see for miles and the people down there are so small I’m on top of the world do we have to go already my son plays the violin maybe he’s practicing in his room but he never practices he could be really good if he would when I played the trumpet in junior high I practiced after school but I was never very good no rhythm at all is it brighter all of a sudden like the sun rising brighter now everything is red alarm clock it’s the alarm clock.

Slowly I sat up in bed, reached over and turned off the alarm. Had I dreamed? Fleeting images dripped slowly off my consciousness in the early moments of the day, just beyond my grasp. I hummed as I headed to the shower.


Postscript: What the hell was that? Excellent question. The text above is an attempt at Flash Fiction, directed, in particular, to the Three Word Wednesday blog.


Sheilagh Lee said...

I like this.Great story.

Kim Nelson said...

The non-punctuated, strung-together construction adds much to your tale. Creative and clever.

oldegg said...

I've heard of "stream of consciousness" this however must be a stream of unconsciousness seeing he was dreaming. I loved that it was chock a block full of what I wanted to read and cannot applaud you enough.