In a bedroom with a notebook and biro. Turning words into lyrics. The radio on. Up-and-coming stars. Thoughts of playing gigs and getting on telly. The songs to be sung and the power to change the world. All those guitars. Rips in jeans and hair falling over eyes. A plaid shirt. Some jotted down chords. Browsing in record shops and nights in the pub. Dreams of success and band rehearsals made up of gaffer tape, howling feedback and arguments. Lying on a bed with the window open in spring. Listening to the news. Stomach cramps. Depression. Drugs. A shotgun. Over.
100-Word Fiction: ‘For the Kids, RIP’
Published by MW Bewick
Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com View more posts
MW Bewick 