Three Line Tales : Shooting Rockstar

three line tales, week 55: concert, raised hands

photo by Edwin Undrade via Unsplash


He thought he’d miss the groupies, the easy access to willing flesh, the adoring submissions and the manager’s whispered shooings as the sun rose over LA.

Maybe the money – or at least the pleasure in wasting it. Private jets and fountains flowing with Dom Perignon that he didn’t even drink, the tame leopard he took for walks round the garden that terrified the Botoxed actor who lived next door.

But sitting in his Chevy, bottle resting in his lap, he misses most the waves of love, knowing no one at a gig wanted anything else more but to listen to him play. He takes another swig of bourbon and starts the engine.



Careful what you wish for.

Written for Sonya at Only 100 Words’ Three Line Tales. See the pic and write a story, why don’t you? See here to join in and to read the other stories.


16 thoughts on “Three Line Tales : Shooting Rockstar

      1. I quite often feel odd and part of a different world. I don’t read celeb magazines or watch soaps or I’m a Celebrity or Strictly. I don’t follow fashion or buy (or want) designer clothes, in fact I find it hard to shop for clothes at all as I hate it and never find anything I want anyway.
        We’re perfectly normal, Jane. We’ve just been sold an idea of what we should want by people trying to sell us things, whether it’s detergent or celebrity lifestyles


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