Friday Fictioneers — Don’t Cuss The Fiddle Player

In response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer Challenge.


Copyright - Bjorn Brudberg

We were brothers. We had our differences that split us apart in my youth. It pained me to hear him play. I called him a fiddle player and that hurt him greatly. He thought he was so good and much better than his younger brother. When I became famous he vanished from my life. I heard that he despised my music and said I had sold out to the establishment. When I found out he was in town for one of my concerts I reached out to him. I invited him to jam with me. We brought the house down.

Word count = 100






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