The Songs of Desperate Sirens


He is marooned, a castaway in a desert of cement and steel, his old life little more than a blur of vague memory. He has no wallet, no cash, no cards.

His fingers dance over the guitar strings, subtle and gentle. The notes that emerge are like nothing that anyone here has ever heard before: an elemental wave of sound that reverberates over the paving stones.

He closes his eyes – the ones that seem green or blue or purple depending on how the light hits them – and listens to the dancing notes, feeling them in his soul, their rise and fall.

This he thinks, is the only way I can survive in this world of theirs. 

He opens his lips. The song that springs forth is like the first flowers of spring.

Coins and bills fall into his bag as he plays on.

He will not starve tonight.

Word Count: 148

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Sunayana MoiPensieve for providing the prompt photo!

26 thoughts on “The Songs of Desperate Sirens

Add yours

  1. Great grasp of the need for musicians and artists to express themselves, at all costs, and of the need to feed themselves at the same time! If only we could be paid to do what we love. Glad he gets to eat tonight, lovely work 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Yes, i too agree, this is first rate poetic stuff. You brought forth the angst and despair of the street musician so beautifully. I too have written something on the dame lines, though slightly different.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A fascinating character to have as a Siren. I’m sad this is the only way he can survive. It’s sounds like a lonely existence. But I’m sure what he plays just sound brilliant.

    Liked by 1 person

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