(100-word flash fiction)
The lead guitarist was missing and the crowd was getting restive. Jerry, frantic, was about to improvise when there emerged an elderly man carrying a guitar case. He slowly walked over to Steve’s place.
“Steve couldn’t come.” He quietly answered Jerry’s angry, questioning glare. “I am his father. I’ve come to take his place. The show must go on, shouldn’t it?”
That night the guitar sang of pride, childhood, loss and triumph. It was spellbinding.
After they closed, Jerry invited Mr.Faulkner over for a drink.
“What happened to Steve?”
Mr.Faulkner’s tired face crumpled.
“He had a heart attack. He’s gone.”
Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -