He denies his voice, keeping his own counsel. A bitter light comes through the window. Outside, colors surge and pulse like a kaleidoscope of butterflies in mystic patterns.
What muse speaks to her son? His hands jerk, fingers fling outward. His head tweaks to the right, always Continue reading Dirty Brushes
The walls shifted inward, squeezed against his shoulders. Twisted in solitary confinement, the artist couldn’t escape.
He frowned at the seedling that shared his doom. The yellowed note taunted, “Painting makes free.”
A bitter laugh turned to cries. Anguishing back spasms blinded him. Continue reading The Painter’s Doom
Lykke lay the cherry-red six string in its case, closed the lid, and snapped it closed. It had been a good gig, she thought. Her playing hadn’t been perfect, but the small crowd at the hotel bar didn’t notice.
The boys in the band were busy packing up their own gear around her. She had been substituting with this group off and on for a couple months now, while their regular lead ax was in rehab.
She perched on her stilettos and called over to Aaron, the drummer with the various face piercings. “Aaron, what’s it going to be? Am I in tomorrow night?”
He was hunched over and unscrewing part of his kit but looked up in her direction. “Of course, luv. You rocked it tonight. The lads and I shan’t carry on without ya, luv.” He stood then Continue reading Another Gig