When the Train has no Brakes






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?