The Song of the Living

We’re back for another week of Friday Fictioneers. Thank you, Rochelle! If you’d like to join in, click on the link. And here we go…..

on-route-66-jean-l-hays

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

The Song of the Living

Someone whistles an almost forgotten song as evening falls in the camp. Gigi wonders how anyone can possess music, much less whistle, here, knowing what they know.

Then she sees it’s him, the smirking one, the one who laughs when the rest cry. She glares at him. He chuckles.

She can’t stand it anymore. “How can you be so happy when the world is dying around us, and we’re stuck behind barbed wire?”

“Is crying the answer? Curling up in a ball? Only if you want to give up.”

“I don’t.”

“Then live confidently, Princess. It confuses the tyrants.”

end

Sascha Darlington

The song being whistled:

 

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28 replies »

  1. Dry grasslands, ambling wind, not many people or creatures around, whistling; it’s so many art forms coming together to create the most beautiful art: life. 🙂

  2. As Neil says, it’s a brilliant opening sentence. More than that though, it’s a great metaphor for life itself. We don’t (quite) live in a dystopia (yet), but for most people life has a lot of trials and a great deal of drudgery. Song, and music generally, is an excellent antidote, and can certainly represent defiant optimism.

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