Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
This week’s melodic masterpiece is by Jan, her other half, or perhaps, given her diminutive stature, three quarters.
It set me dancing under the stars.
The idea, as always, is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture, below.
Every night has its own sounds.
Internal noises, the creak of the water pipes, the groan of the heating system.
Sometimes the drip of a tap, difficult to ignore.
And the external distractions common to apartment blocks everywhere.
The click of heels in a corridor, the music of a long-dead jazz pianist, doors being closed too loudly.
Through the shutters comes the wail of a cat.
A motorbike engine sixty metres away drowns out the wind, now rustling silently through the pines.
Normally none of this has anything to do with me.
But tonight, I realise with horror, something does.