The Street Performer


My chest heaved, gasping for air, as I ran down the hallway. I skidded on the wood floor as I tore around the corner of the hall. The footsteps of my pursuer thundered up the stairs below me. I threw myself into the first room I came to, it seemed to be utility room for the hotel. My lungs burned as I feebly attempted to slow my breathing.

I could hear the comforting plucking of a guitar somewhere. People were enjoying music right now while I tried to not catch a bullet.

I couldn’t stay in here while they swept the floor, footsteps getting closer by the second. What the hell could I possibly do to get outta this?

Charge them?

Try to ambush one?

The soothing tones of that guitar continued outside somewhere.

No, I couldn’t ambush them. It sounded like they were sticking together. I guess they had learned from their friends I dealt with earlier. I pressed myself against the wall beside the door, listening. My eyes traced the sunlight sprawled across the floor of the hallway just outside my hidey-hole. There was an open window but I was on the 2nd floor. Not that far of a fall but something could go very wrong in that.

The muffled sounds of them searching for me was becoming clearer. The tempo of the guitar outside rushed into a faster rhythm. I took the little bit of time I had left to creep over to the window, ya know, to see if there was any hope.

Holy. Shit.

There was a moving truck below my window. That jump could definitely be done. I wasted no time in launching myself from the window and landing in the most ungraceful way. I slammed shoulder first into the top of the truck and sliding right off the side of the truck, hitting the dirt road hard.

And still, the guitar continued it’s face paced street performance.

No time to wallow in my pain. There was yelling coming from the far end of the street. No doubt more well-dressed thugs. I grabbed the truck to steady myself and started to run again. The performer’s face was a blur as I sprinted passed. My shoes kicked up dirt as I turned down the alley. Damn it. The alley was blocked by a huge wall connecting two buildings. No windows, doors, or even a pipe to climb. I heard more shouting, this time clear.

“He ran down the alley!” a goon shouted.

My head was spinning with frantic thought. There was a ringing in my ears from dragging silence. That’s when I noticed it was silent except for incoming killers.

The guitar wasn’t playing anymore. Probably ran for cover.

They had reached me, guns drawn on my face. I stared them down for a brief moment before closing my eyes, waiting for the Darkness. A sharp whistle cut through the air…

“Don’t get involved, lady!” one of the men commanded.

There was an almighty thud. I opened my eyes in time to move out of the way of the body. The last man spun to face her but too late. She grabbed the gun in her right hand, crushing it with ease. Her other hand smothered the man’s face as she pushed him against the wall. There was what sounded like a whimper. She drew back her fist and walloped the thug in the chest. The brick flew everywhere as the man was sent flying through it. A cloud of dust hung around the hole where the man had just stood. I looked at the woman, her guitar was slung over her back like a great weapon.

“You better get moving before more show up.” she said with an expressionless face.

That was it. She turned, unsheathed her guitar and began plucking a peaceful melody as she walked back down the alley.


The topic for this post’s flash fiction was via Daily Prompt: Pluck

I couldn’t help myself! I had to write around a guitar being played. So why not make her an awesome chick that can punch people through walls while shredding.

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