Write on Wednesday: Songbird

I'm joining Ink, Paper, Pen for Write on Wednesdays!  I'm a bit early I know but have a busy week ahead of me.

Write on Wednesday Exercise 16 - Songbird...

Take a favorite (or even random play) song and write the story behind the lyrics, not something inspired by the lyric, but the flesh on the bones of the story. It gives lots of scope for interpretative writing. Use the lyrics or theme of a song  for a piece of flash fiction (50 to 200 words). To clarify, write your version of the story behind the lyrics in a song

I chose my favourite song for the last 3 years or so...... "Stranger Things Have Happened" by the Foo Fighters.  It was on the Echoes, Silence Patience and Grace album from 2007 but was never released in the mainstream.  Its kind of a sexy song (well, Dave Grohl has that effect on me hahaha) so I thought I would write a sexy piece, well latently sexy anyway, which is about as far from my realm of writing comfort as possible. 

Before reading, would you mind listening to the first couple of lines of the song so you get the proper mood and feeling behind the story?  Just click on the link below, thank you!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZOUt3_PTQI

He leant with his back against the wall, cigarette in his mouth, watching the dust spin down the road, shimmerin’ and a-hazy in the heat.  Nothin’ but dust and dirt in this town.  This town dying a slow, still death like a thousand other desert towns in New Mexico.  And he was slowly dying too, this dead end place sucking the life outta him.   Not for much longer though.  Soon he would take his guitar and his $200 dollars and get on a bus out of here for California.

But he hadn’t told Angelina yet, and he watched her as she walked out of the diner towards him.  Half Mexican, half Indian, all legs and golden skin and black hair swaying around her waist.  And just the look of her made him feel heady and he closed his eyes and remembered the first time they were together in the room above the garage with the sun streaming in and he had watched her like he watched her now, the cigarette smoke curling up to the ceiling.

She had climbed out of bed and sat on the window sill, naked and not caring ‘cause no one was around to see, looking out at the desert humming to herself.  And he knew then she would never leave and he knew then he could never stay and all they had was this, this room, this day, and he wondered if he would ever get the warm smell of her skin outta his mind.