It’s time for Friday Fictioneers. Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting and to her husband Jan Fields for the wonderful photo.
All are welcome to join this challenge, which is to write a 100-word story based on the photo. Here are instructions. Give it a try. My story follows.
Genre: Realistic Fiction (102 words)
Liza pounded the piano, the way her mother told her not to. It had been Mr. Stevenson’s cue to play.
Mr. Stevenson, a pianist for mama’s ballet class, was so good you hardly noticed him. “Like a waiter in a fine restaurant,” mama had told her. But mama had noticed because they had done the fine dining together.
Sweet music filled their small quarters like jasmine on a summer night. Liza and mama danced with roses in their hair. At night Liza heard a more percussive number, what Liza determined could only be 3/4 time.
Couples drunk with love hear the music as they wander cobblestone corridors, not knowing what they will encounter. The music draws them there, into a courtyard of glittering lights, some chairs, and a strumming guitar duo. The guitarists practice to their own rhythm, unbeknownst to the crowd that gathers and dances. The warm sounds of the vibrating strings swell and float in the air, as more families and friends converge, and strangers meet, a gentle smile resting on their faces.
The duo smile at each other. The older plucks a few notes, and they join together. The night has just begun.
Cradling my waist, he whisked me into the alley. His musky scent mingled with mine while we lingered, his breath on my cheek. I forgot about my aching feet searching for the restaurant with no street name.
“I think I’m hungry,” I said.
“We’re lost. Let’s skip it,” he said, nipping my neck.
Cupping his chin, I whispered, “They say this is the best restaurant in the world.”
He sighed. “It better be.”
In our candlelit corner, we savored a culinary experience that could not be matched. We returned to it in our future visits, pretending to be lost.