Once upon a time, in a little city along a river, a rather average boy (you’re narrator, to be precise) was sitting alone in a very cold room with a very white guitar, strumming very simple chords, and singing songs about his hometown in the far-off kingdom of America. He was singing little pop songs about girls that had broken his heart and about the mythology of big words like “freedom.”
He would do this strumming-and-singing at all hours of the day. From the moment the first glare of light tinted the sky until the moon tucked the sun into the snug hills outside the city, this boy would play his guitar and sing songs.
But one day he stopped.
At first, the other boys and girls in the house were happy. They danced in circles and went to bed early, catching up on much needed sleep. Yet soon they began to worry. This boy with the guitar had locked himself in his room and wouldn’t answer his door, not even when his housemates brought him big bowls of savory stew. His housemates began to worry!
“What can we do?” they asked. They went throughout the streets of Exeter–dodging drops of English rain–knocking on doors and asking for help, hoping someone might coax sad guitar boy out of his room. They asked the locksmith, but he was too busy. So they went to City Hall: “I have more important things,” said the Mayor. In Tesco, the fat grocer woman also turned them away; “No ounce of deli meat will save the vegetarian boy,” she said shrilly.
Saddened, these boy and girls were about to give up until they encountered sassy violin girl busking in the town square with a mute guitar-playing midget tapping his toes to the tunes. The sassy violin girl could see this sad bunch needed a good cheer-up. “What’s wrong, boys and girls?”
The boys and girls told the very sad story of guitar boy locked in his room. Sassy violin girl thought for a moment and said, “Take me to the boy’s door.” And they all went back to the old house together.
Sassy violin girl took out her violin and began fiddling a song oh so sweet! The mute guitar-strumming midget strummed chords so soulful the kids crooned along. The music shook the floors and rattled the walls! Yet nothing happened. Then, to their surprise, they all saw a crack in the door. They played louder, and the door slowly opened. It was sad guitar boy! He opened the door, his white guitar gleaming with light.
Sassy violin girl said, “Come with me,” and they all pranced down the stairs and out the door, marching up and down High Street, signing songs together. All the townspeople came out of their homes and joined them! What a glorious celebration, they remarked! So they decided to start a band. They called themselves Flash Fiction and recorded much beautiful music—catchy indie pop music! They even recorded an album called The Murmurs of Morning available on January 6th, 2014 for free download.
They became a splendid band, and the streets of Exeter were never the same! This folk-pop group had changed the city and had been signed to Witchita Recordings (well, the jury is still out on that one).
It is said, even to this day, that the choruses to their best songs still echo through the city. It is said that whenever a boy is sad, the locals of the town play Flash Fiction loudly, and the all the people become happy and celebrate! How’s that for happily-ever-after?
Alicia Atout | @AliciaAtout