He kills the audience with his performance night after night after night.

Small and slight in stature, he makes up for his genetic disadvantage with his sulky voice, steering his audience to shipwreck. Of course they don’t see it coming. Doesn’t he look like an angel in the spotlight, like a divine messenger who might save them? Little do they know how much he dreads them and seeks to pull them under water.

Encore, encore, encore, one more song, they gurgle pleadingly. Succumbing to the downward pull. Forgotten is their strength, superior to his if only they knew of it still, had shielded themselves from the hypnotic power of his voice.

That feeling, oh, that feeling, of being the sole survivor, staying above water, returning to dry shore, victorious, invincible.

(c) Ash N. Finn, 2017

Post Scriptum: Quick and short post today, triggered by a recent sketch I made.

10 thoughts on “Performance

    1. And I love how your imagination made you read it as such. On an aside, I’m sketching shipwrecks today. My fluttering weird Easter weekend mind has tasked me with it. 😉

      1. Oh yes, I was looking for inspiration and into my mind arrived the image of a shipwreck. I’ll post a sketch of it shortly. 😉

  1. What was said above. Only this can be read in so many ways. Just as the sketch can be interpreted in so many. Everything from paraphrasing Karl Marx’s observation that religion is the opiate of the masses to the screaming mindless pick a pop star fans, to, oh my gawd don’t say it, politics. BANG. You have a gift for that. Thanks for sharing it.

    1. Thank you very much for visiting my place here and for taking the time to read and comment. I only recently discovered yours and liked what I saw. Your latest story, one little life, really struck a chord and enchanted me in a happily sad way.

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