
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr
Listening to the record wasn’t as charged as being there, but as a fuse it sparked her memories to explode like fireworks. She could see him vividly now, strutting the stage, enslaving the audience, owning the world. She never loved him so much as in that instance. She dragged her knees up to her chin and crushed a cushion to her breast, sobbing.
“He was so high that night. Why did he need to chase more? He already had it all, why wasn’t that enough?”
She sighed. It was it seemed he’d always known. Ever since, he named the band, Icarus.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

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DIY Private Investigation is not for the fainthearted. What could the inhabitants of a rural Essex village possibly know about hunting down and defeating a violent drugs gang? Where do you start? Why would you even contemplate starting?
Alison stood before the sink, clenched her fists and pressed her nails into her palms. She scrunched her eyes tight until they watered. She tensed every sinew as if in hope that when she relaxed, the world would be different.





All they set out to do was find a missing teenager, but one thing always leads to another for Julian Ashton and his tramp friend, Wordsworth. When the local teenagers find there’s a greater variety of fun on offer at the fair than the usual attractions, things turn sinister and deadly.

