I like to pretend I am the conductor of an orchestra, like the ones Pa took me to see when I was small. We’d sneak in at the interval and hide within the shadows, until it was safe to choose our seats.
Now on the cold days, my hands become my baton, like I’m Nadia Boulanger conducting the street. The rain falls at my signal, its rhythmic pounding rising, shutters crash fortissimo, as the sea gulls add their caws.
They think I’m mad, the folk who hurry passed me, but I disregard their feelings as they have, for so long, disregarded mine.
Word count: 102 words
PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala
Hello Friday Fictioneers! It’s been a while as I’ve let life take over (again!) – but I’ve just turned 40 and I’m taking on writer’s block, and hoping Friday Fictioneers may help a little! Now I’ll try to read as many of your stories as I can before I have to collect my little boy!
Not heard of Friday Fictioneers? It’s a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The idea is to write a short story (just 100 words) based on the photo prompt provided.
To join in the fun visit HERE.
Read more stories HERE.
Thanks for reading x