Bruce Music – 100 words

Bruce wandered out into the night. Too drunk to go home. Not drunk enough for the cat house. A warm breeze blew from somewhere. Nowhere. The senses lie when the spirit is unfulfilled.

Bruce listened to the empty darkness. Distant music played.

Bruce walked north, trying to shoo the pied piper image from his head.

Alley after alley the music grew louder. A thumping beat with no rhythm. No harmony. Just a symphony of industrial instruments pounding out product.

The greasy old factory pulsed with music and light. The doorman wouldn’t let Bruce in.

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Sleeper – 100 words

George saw the woman crying. Not his problem. He didn’t make her cry. Then the ghost of his mother’s guilt grabbed him by the ear and dragged him towards her.

“You OK lady?”

If George was any less a man the look she gave him would have been fatal. She put her head down and returned to her sorrow, then jerked upright. “George?”

He looked carefully but did not recognize her.

“No, you don’t know me.” She said. “I used to sleep in your car.”

The bus came, she got on. George, frozen in shock, waved as she rode away.

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Ted Moving - 100 words

One day when Ted was a teenager he tried speaking entirely in song lyrics. It was a total failure. First, the only lyrics Ted knew were from punk rock songs. Punk rock just isn't as conversational as, say, opera. Second, Ted's family thought he was skitzo and assumed this was just another symptom.

Years later, sitting in an empty warehouse loft, waiting for the moving truck to bring his furniture, he remembered that day. Laughter, tears and vomiting followed.

The truck arrived and the rickety elevator kept working as load after load of his stuff was scattered about the room.