Strumming my pain with his fingers

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Read a raving review of a new play. Intrigued I bought a ticket.

The lights go down. The susurration of the audience fades to silence. Next, I wonder if somehow I walked through a looking-glass. On stage, personified by the actors, my whole life enfolds. Every hurt, betrayal, trauma, pain, sorrow.
Stunned, tears streaming. In the dark, I hear how people react.
Sharp intakes of breath. “That’s horrible!”
Tears of empathy. “Could anyone survive that? Without loosing their minds?”

Standing ovation lasts an eternity, then people file out.
I’m frozen. Realization dawning.
My story have to be shared with others!

© RedCat

I’ve had this piece, or some form of it in my head for a couple of weeks. It’s inspired by some blogs I read, who sometimes feels like they are about me and should be written by me.

Showing that all parts of one’s story is shared by another, somewhere, sometime…

Posted to Friday Fictioneers where we write 100 words stories (beginning-middle-end) inspired by the photo prompt. Click on the frog to read more stories.

19 thoughts on “Strumming my pain with his fingers

Add yours

  1. Sharing one’s story is what writing is all about to me. The characters and the way the information is presented is always reconfiguring, but the person you are tells your story no matter the plot.

  2. I do that a lot in my own writing. I have a theory that there’s more fact than fiction in most fiction. I often hope when people read my stories that they accept it as fiction. The truth bubbles up to right beneath the surface.

    Nice usage of the Roberta Flack line for your title. I almost went with Donny Hathaway for mine, “I’ve acted out my life on stages,” but I shortened it to “Stages.”

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