Here is a piece of flash fiction I wrote a few years ago. It does not have an intended word count at the moment, so it can go longer or shorter.
It filled the air. Even when no one was saying anything about it, it was all they were talking about. The notices had been posted. The auditions were to be held tomorrow at the Royal Theater. The Director was going to put on “the Play.”
No one could remember the last time the play had been staged, but its words and music lived in the heart of everyone. The whole town dreamed of being in the play, of performing some role, no matter how small. No one could resist the urge to take part.
Once the day’s labors were done, everyone went home to practice. The Director went out to walk the streets.
It started with the soft strains of the opening piece, coming from a cellist on her balcony. Soon, a violin joined in, then a clarinet, and then a whole orchestra filled the air.
The director continued walking. The boy lighting the street lamps gave the opening monologue. A mother, cradling a babe in her arms, sang the heroine’s first song.
Through each neighborhood, down every street, the director walked. Everywhere, different voices played the same familiar roles. Musicians picked up their cues, children added their voices to the chorus. From beginning to end, the play progressed through the town, with the director following it.
The next day, the sign at the Royal Theater read “Auditions Cancelled. Last night’s performance cannot be topped.”
Tell me what you think. What works? What doesn’t? What questions do you have?
Posted in Fiction and tagged flash fiction by Erin Shanendoah with no comments yet.