I was forty-two years old when the bus hit me. I died instantly, suddenly finding myself floating upwardly to that place that you only know is real once you’re headed there.
One of the first things I learned in heaven is that musicians are one of the classifications of deceased humans that get special privileges. And we are always taught it is the rich who get special favors.
I learned that musicians were angels before they were ever sent to earth as humans. Their mission, albeit unconsciously, is to bring joy to the world. Think about it. How grim would a world be without music?
I’d played guitar and other stringed instruments all of my life, starting at age ten. I brought such joy to so many with songs that “mysteriously came to me.” I thrilled at meeting my heroes in heaven. Imagine when George Harrison, Chris Cornell, and I had a jam session. The stages were open 24/7 – and there was always an appreciative audience.
The special privileges that musicians were given is that once a month they were allowed to come back to earth for a day, to play music. We were always sent as street musicians and always in disguise.
So… the next time you’re walking along and see one of us playing, know the gift we give you gifts us as much as it gives you.
The End. [231 words]
Fandango is the host of Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge. Fandango says:
Welcome to “Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.” Each week I will be posting a photo I grab off the internet and challenge bloggers to write a relatively short flash fiction piece inspired by the photo. While there are no definitive style or word limits, I suggest trying to keep your posts to under 300 words.
The image is from mirceaianc at Pixabay.com.