Friday Fictioneers: Beating Hearts




You ever get the feeling that you can read an entire person’s life with one glance at them? But then you realize you can only do that because their life story is the same as yours and you’re just looking at you in a different shape and size and trappings. And then do you ever get the feeling that suddenly crowded city streets start filling up with divisions of you- where every face that passes you is as readable as your own reflection? What do you do with a moment like that? Are you all too similar or are you close enough to know each other like never before?

I have no idea what that even was. I just kind of stream-of-consciousness wrote that and only really looked up at it now.

Now that I look at it though, I figure I might as well leave it there. After all, these weekly writing challenges are a remarkable way to get a tiny peak into my psychological and emotional landscape at the given time. So I figure I’ll stick with the improv’d feeling and just let other folks make sense of my trace-y ramblings.

It’s how I’ve been living life so far and the amount of confused glances thrown my way are practically negligible.


Have fun~




Image copyright: David Stewart

Image copyright: David Stewart


Title: Beating Hearts

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100


“Grandpa,” Monica groaned, “can’t you tell Donny to turn his rock-and-roll down? It’s ear-splitting.”

“Monie,” I said, “have you ever been to Africa?”

She shook her curls.

“Well, I have,” I said …I saw it as a naïve younger man, back when the Peace Corp was still waging war on me. From villages left in less than ashes, I had seen men and women smiling through it all. They smiled as I served stew made up mostly of hope from a dented ladle. “And they love life there like nowhere else.” I smile. “So I say, let the band play.”





I wish I had about twenty more words. I really wanted the old man to say something else before the flourish in the final line. But oh well, what’s life without challenges? Boring, that’s what. Also, I kind of wish I knew more about music going into this. I didn’t want to look the terms up and make it sound disingenuous but I wanted to have a word for that ending flourish of a statement. It was one of those moments when you wanted one single word in all of the English language and not only can you not think of it but you don’t know if you even know it in the first place.

And unlike my usual writing I can’t just make a big bold red word that says something like, “FILL IN LATER” in its place so I can, well, fill it in later. I imagine it would look a mite unprofessional here.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!





6 comments on “Friday Fictioneers: Beating Hearts

  1. ansumani says:

    ‘Let the band play’ says it all….I don’t think you needed more words there. Nice read!

  2. jwdwrites says:

    Hello Michael, I was going to ‘like’ your post but couldn’t find a button so I am saying it instead. I like this post. 🙂

  3. Liz Young says:

    I thought the ending was fine. So was the story.
    Your opening ramble was strange but some of it chimed with the way I see the world on occasions – through the looking glass, like Alice.

  4. Dear Michael,

    I suppose an experience such as his would make him more tolerant. Nicely done.



  5. dmmacilroy says:

    Dear Michael,

    A powerful story with a lesson that all should learn and relearn. Well done.



  6. Creatopath says:

    I liked the ‘stew made up of hope’ and the ending was perfect for the picture prompt.

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