I wrote this a while back for a friend’s podcast. I’m not sure that it ever got used (and if not it may yet be), but I figured I’d share it here. The challenges was to use a picture that looked good at 300px by 300px and write a 300 word story (EXACTLY!). After reading my story, your challenge is to do that. Write your story and link to it in the comments. It can be any topic or genre, just keep it relatively clean/work safe. I’ll run the three best here (if I get three or less I’ll run all three). Those three will get their pick of story from my Amazon store. Make sure that the picture is one that you have permission to use. The deadline is the twelfth of September, 2014 CE.
I first met Ms. Adelaide Hughes when I was playin’ piano in that smokey hall in Harlem. She was a vision in sparkles and feathers and had the voice of an angel. Playin’ piano for her was something like makin’ love, the risin’ and fallin’ of our voices together. My fingers bringin’ out those high pitched wails and moans from between her lips. I wasn’t always in control though. Sometimes she led me. It was a beautiful partnership.
Well, I got it in my damn fool head to go see her and maybe get a kiss and an autograph. I weren’t nothin’ but a kid from Alabama. There were better ivory ticklers in the city, and that ain’t no lie. I was just lucky to be where I was. I pushed that luck, though. I knocked on the door of her dressin’ room, knowin’ she was in there alone.
I went in, keepin’ my head down. “Evenin’ miss, Hughes.”
“Bobby, so good to see you.”
I blushed. Didn’t know she knew my name. I stupidly held out a picture. “Can you sign this, Ms. Hughes?” I held it out, tremblin’.
She smelled like sweat, perfume, and cigarettes. She’d moved to me without a whisper and brought my head up. “I can do more than that.” She brought her mouth to mine; her lips the softest things I’d ever felt. Our tongues played with one another in an old dance. She led it and my body surrendered.
It broke all too soon.
She took the picture and kissed it softly, markin’ it with her lipstick. She signed it with a pen, too. “Bobby Anne, we make beautiful music together. Adelaide.”
I’d like to say we shared more than that kiss, but that would be tellin’ tales out of school.