Bad Town for Playin’ Banjo

NO PICKERS read the sign above the door. I would have to play it cool. Maintain my anonymity, hope no one talks to me.

I walked in the room and felt dozens of sharp stares piercing right through me. The blur of conversations in the air hung thick with hatred, and I could sense that I had already made a mistake. Still, I ordered my drink and sat down. I felt a slap on my shoulder.

“What’s in the case, boy?” a voice boomed behind me.

“Guitar.” I said, and slugged back my whiskey.

“I hope so…” the voice growled.

***
Title by: Michael
Story by: Jeremy

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Undo

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