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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020
Submitted to Contest #27
He stands alone in the wing, back slumped against the door. One hand grips his trumpet, the other, a piece of paper. Behind him an orchestra begins to tune as men and women shuffle to their seats, ready to forget the outside world and all of its trouble for a night. Yet here he stands, eyes swollen and watering, wanting nothing more than a grieving moment. A broken soul dressed to the nines.Somewhere, many miles from here, his brother is dead. Struck through the heart with an errant musket ball.Burying the letter in his cummerbund, he reache...
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