Killing Me Softly

She walked into the small club quivering with anticipation.  This humble venue with its wood beamed walls was the hub of folk movement.

The curtains parted and there he was this young boy.  She had heard about him but he was a stranger to her eyes. 

The performance started and the music enveloped her.  As he sang, it felt as if the songs were washing over her soul, strumming her pain with his fingers.  Her face flushed as if her secrets were revealed while the man on the stage read pages from her diary, telling her life with his words.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Sometimes the story writes itself.  I was going on a totally different direction but then I read this article about the origins of one of my favourite songs.   The truth be told I was listening to Roberta Flack while working today.  To read the other writers this week click here.  

I am also doing Movember this month

The Movember Foundation is the only global charity focused solely on men's health, so this Movember I'm getting on board. I'm raising funds to tackle some of the biggest health issues faced by men: prostate cancer, testicular cancer, and poor mental health. Help me stop men dying too young.

https://au.movember.com/mospace/1141902