To slip nicely from the end of sweet summer sweat and August’s heat into September’s pre-Labor Day weekend; her magnificence, Rochelle of the purple addiction, and Wednesday Wonder Woman, has cast a David Stewart late night photo for all to see and to be mused into a fictional tryst for Friday.
If you wish to try a fib, a lie, or you have a story to aspire, click on David’s photo, and you shall flash over to the blog of our magical mistress to learn all her secrets.
My tale grew from an effect echoed by a favorite musical afterglow. Fans of the band or the song may glean the tune from the nature of some lines I borrowed.
Genre: Musical Fan Fiction
Title: Programed to Read
Word Count: 100
Shimmering lights lit the shed.
Don pointed. “There’s the doorway. Step inside. Say, ‘1969.’ Another door opens to a colitas casino.”
I said, “Gambling’s legal. Why the drama?”
“Libraries are underground since books and music became illegal. Dancing to remember is forbidden.”
I did as he said. I heard happy voices. Such a lovely place with music and books. I asked the librarian, “Could I check anything out?”
She lit a candle and replied, “Such a lovely face. Relax. We are all prisoners here programmed to read. You may check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”
Look both ways.
Saying it will not happen again doesn’t mean it won’t.
Mind the gaps for fears in the middle of the night, just to hear them say,
“Bring your alibis.”
This is not the Eagles, but cred to their song by buskers Sherlock and Rodrigues. My deep apologies if this YouTube fails you, I don’t know how to tell if it’s banned in Boston, London, or Montreal.