# Friday Flash - 2
Speck of Light
By: Paula Ray
848 words
“The thing is: you’ve got to write something light during dark times. Everyone’s sick of hearing depressing news. What people want is an escape.”
“I don’t write fluff.”
“It isn’t fluff. It’s a gift.” Steve leaned forward in his executive chair and turned a family photo around so Stella could see it. He pointed to an old man in a fishing cap. “See that man?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the smartest man I’ve ever known, my grandfather. He had a saying that has stuck with me for life and it’s true.”
Stella rolled her eyes and sighed then cocked her head to listen.
“People will always be happy to see you. They’ll be happy to see you come or to see you go and it’s up to you to decide which kind of person you want to be.”
She smiled. “That’s pretty good.”
“Yes, it is.” Steve gave her a toothy grin. “I think the same philosophy applies to music.”
“What do you mean?”
“The world has enough songs about how hard life is. The songs that often prove the test of time are joyful. Why? Because we want an escape. We want the dream. The Beatles for instance, one of the top selling bands ever, how many of their songs were negative?”
“I don’t know.” Feeling irritated at the fatherly chat, Stella began flipping through her black binder of songs she wanted to show Steve. “Are you going to take a look at these or not? I’ve been working on these songs for months.”
“You said they were protest songs—attacking the government, standing up to the war, shedding light on the wrongs of the world.” He raised an eyebrow. “Right?”
“Yes. Current topics many people can relate to.”
“I’m not interested in relating to the pain and ugliness in the world. You’re wasting your talent.”
Stella let out a frustrated sigh and stood. “No need for me to be here then. You could at least listen to them.”
“Now, don’t go off in a huff. Look around you.” Steve pointed to the numerous awards for records he produced over the years. “Not a single hit in my career has been based on whining about the state of the world. Every one of these hits brought a dream alive for the listener. Some brought romance, some brought nonsensical escape, some inspired new dances, but NONE of them went on a rant, depressed the listener, or wallowed in self-pity of a broken heart.” He stood and walked toward Stella and put an arm around her as he escorted her to the door. “Politics, religion, every bruised blues beat-poet hybrid folk-singing oppressed version of “woe is me” has been worn out. What I want from you is magic. If you can do that, you’ll have hit after hit, because none of us will want to be in this world. We’ll all want to hang around you, singing your words, dreaming your dreams.” He opened the door for her and continued, “We’re all living in the land of shit ain’t never gonna be a hit. You have the gift to bring joy or misery. You are at a point in your career you need to decide. Bring joy, Stella. Misery? Leave that for the fools who don’t have your rare talent. I see it inside you; that’s why you got the gig.”
She looked down at her binder then cut him an evil glare.
“I’m sure your protest songs are marketable, but you can do better than marketable. Come back soon.”
“Bye.” She turned her back on him, furious he dismissed her hard work without even taking the time to listen to it. Yeah, he was a big time producer, but she was the songwriter. She knew good songs when she heard them and these were good.
She waited for the elevator. The door opened and there stood an old custodian, listening to something on headphones that made his head bob. He smiled. Leaning against the back wall was a business man in an expensive suit, who was reading the newspaper with a frown. Stella placed herself in between the two of them and watched the countdown as the elevator descended. By the time they reached ground level, she had a tune brewing in her mind. She hopped out of the elevator and pushed her way through the revolving door and stepped out onto the sidewalk--avoiding the shade. She noticed how the specks of quartz in the concrete glittered and the way all the sounds around her created a groove she could snap her fingers to. She began to hum a melody that danced with noise around her as something inside herself opened. One word trickled out of her mouth and filled the air, “magic.” It made her feel light, weightless and the black binder in her hand felt heavy like an anchor. She tossed the binder in a nearby trashcan and her feet barely touched the ground as she headed back to her apartment and the electronic keyboard nestled beneath her living room window.
Comments
It's things like that which always stick in my mind.
Now I'm curious to find out what happens to Stella and see if she does pick her own path, or if she goes with the producer. Yes, you allude to it, which is great and why the intrigue is piqued :P
I do think the theme of escape is wonderful and too true to the world. Great work! It flowed wonderfully!
Happy writing
Hinny
One small comment. A real writer would never have trashed something she worked on for "months". Put it away in a hidden corner never to be taken out again, yes. Throw away...umm....
But loved the story anyway!
Thank you, Hinny. I think Stella finds her way and walks in the light.
Thank you, Random Thinker. You are a right, most writers would not throw away their hard work, but then again, most writers would probably have more than one copy of it :)I wanted to show that she was willing to let go of her past work and free herself up to reconsider her approach, maybe look for inspiration from the beauty in the world. You DO have a valid point, but sometimes I think we hold onto darkness and dwell on it too long, when if we would let it go, toss it aside, completely abandon it--if only momentarily--we'd find it frees us up to grab onto something that may bring us joy instead.
Thank you all for the comments. I'm so glad this story is being responded to favorably, because it isn't horror or sci-fi or overly poetic, which is my norm--it just is and I was afraid it would fall flat on its face.
I really liked Stella. I'm wondering if there's more to her story...
(see, there... all upfront and schtuffas!)
I liked the contrast of the cheerful custodian and the grumpy businessman!
I'm not sure what pushed Stella to listening to the producer's advice. A custodian singing and a businessman frowning didn't seem enough of a catalyst for her to notice/tune in to the "magic".
Great quote. Great piece of flash...