The last song | Flash Fiction

The music was faint so far away from the stage, but they had room to sit down and still see the performers from the distance. Their barrier warrior days were mostly over, and they were content with arriving later, seeing fewer shows, and staying away from the crowd unless absolutely necessary.

“Thirsty?” he asked, noticing her beer glass was empty. “I can go get us both another drink.” But she shook her head.

“This one is almost over, let’s wait. It’s too good, isn’t it?”

In the distance, a singer in a worn-down t-shirt weaved hypnotic riffs on a loop as he crooned, lamenting all the lives he lost on the road.

She curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He smelled like a bright summer day, like happy, groggy mornings, like oud and waterfalls and home. For a moment, she grieved for all the moments they’d never have. The house they never bought. The children they never raised. The vows they never pledged at the wedding they never celebrated. She looked up, angry at the clear blue sky above her. In a couple of days, it’d fall on them with the force of the entire universe. What use was there in hiding? Running away? The impact and the fire would follow them anywhere, annihilating them in an instant. So they sat there, listening to the music, holding on to the warmth of each other’s arms for as long as they could.

I hope you like this short story. I’ve started writing micro fiction on Twitter, if it’s something you’d like to check out. I post 3-4 times a week using these prompts.


I’ve also created a Ko-fi account to fund this somewhat expensive passion of mine. I’m also thinking about getting my Patreon account off the ground, but I’d like to think through what kind of perks I’d be able to offer that are both interesting for you and doable for me.

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Photo: Caspar David Friedrich, Two Men by the Sea (1817)

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