Ghost Notes

She’d searched so long for that elusive timing signature to accompany the melody stuck inside her head.

Profoundly dead since eight, there had been no way to drown out the earworm that had burrowed so deep.

But today she had found it! At the Skaggerston hoedown!

People had complained when she’d stormed the stage, demanding the drummer maintain his 7/4 beat. Her father’s pistol ensured compliance.

Now it was just them. She danced around the drummer, ignoring the approaching flashing blue lights.

The beat slowed. Dripping with sweat; terror in his eyes.

She raised the pistol. He dutifully played on.