He sprints off. Ignores the groupies. He needs to ponder the implications.
‘Nobody in my dressing room,’ he whispers to his bodyguard.
The number of notes he hit tonight were by far outnumbered by those he missed. His career, his dream is over.
‘Hello darling.’
She’s stunning. But he’s not in the mood.
‘Who let you in?’
‘Don’t blame your man, he isn’t meant to see me.’
She twirls her index finger. Is that magic?
‘You need my help.’
A statement.
He nods.
He’ll come to regret this, no doubt. Tonight, though, he’ll do anything to keep his dream alive.
Only 100 Words 
Great sense of quiet desperation, how terrifying it must be to feel yourself slipping from the top, how you’d be willing to do… anything. I was confused by the title so I looked it up and ta-da, learned a new term today, thanks!
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I’ve clearly spent too much time reading up on Irish mythology recently – glad to be of service, though 😀
Thanks, Joy!
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No such thing as “too much” time reading mythology. 🙂
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It was nice. Reminded me of dresden files 🙂
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Thanks! I haven’t read the Dresden Files but I think I should.
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A modern Faustus. We need this. Thank you!
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We need the story, that is, not to act or think like him.
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Thanks, Christopher!
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