Leader of the Band

Friday Fictioneers is a compilation of writers from around the world who gather online weekly, guided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge? To write a story in 100 words or less based on a new photo prompt.

Click HERE for an online flash fiction anthology by the Friday Fictioneers!

Photo courtesy Sandra Cook

It didn’t occur to me until reading Rochelle’s comment that some may not “see” what I “saw” in Sandra’s photo, which goes to prove we all see things differently. For reasons I hope you’ll understand after reading my story, I “saw” a drum major’s mace. Here’s what a “real” mace looks like:

 

Leader of the Band

I stood at attention in the middle of the football field. Was it the wintry air or my fear of Mr. Lindsay and his dreaded megaphone that kept me frozen in place? After all, I’d been the victim of that evil bullhorn once and that was enough. Never again would I “left face” when I should have “right faced.”

Nothing like that feeling.

At last, the drum major raised his mace against the gray sky. His shrill whistle pierced the frigid air, and snare drums rolled as two hundred musicians moved forward, left foot first.

Nothing like that feeling.

THE END

AUTHOR NOTE:  This little story is dedicated to Mr. Lindsay and the Armijo Superband. True, there were times he instilled fear in all of us with that megaphone of his, but he remains to this day, one of my favorite teachers. 🙂

Steve’s Story

Transmission

Beneath this streetlight, three weeks after his wife died, her ashes tucked under his elbow, he headed to the river where she had asked he spread them and received her first “transmission.”

Bumped as he crossed the street, the bronze urn fell and spilled out.

He dropped to his hands and knees, horrified, and furiously he scraped up her ashes. People walked past, car horns blared, drops of rain fell.

He wept, cried out,  ”I’m sorry.”

Then, he received it.  First, it came physically, a warm, ineffable, white rapture, filled with kindness, overtook his body.

Then, her voice. “You’re forgiven.”