(This is an original piece written for IndiesUnlimited.com‘s Weekly Flash Fiction Contest. The prompt was Concert.)
It felt like heaven. He stood elevated above mankind as blinding spotlights appointed him the chosen one. His resonating voice rippled the sea of people. The sea replied as cheers crashed upon him like a tidal wave, baptizing him in adoration.
Even the falling sun sacrificed itself to illuminate his back and offer a halo. It painted the sky for him; shades of orange, red, and yellow stroked the horizon fading into the night canvas. Beauty, even as this, was inferior to him; the sun was dim in his shadow.
Music rumbled. Swelling, it awarded him the climax upon which he mounted like a chariot. The roaring sea could no longer be heard beneath the symphony soaring above it. He reached down and graced their mortal ears.
Memories of when he was but a man were lost to the glory of a god. He was king now. He was success. He was heaven.
The sun eventually died. The obscurity of the moon took its place. Spotlights switched off. The sea dried up leaving emptied beer cans and crumpled paper for volunteers to scavenge. The symphony left only a nagging remnant ring; the kind that forces a finger to pop out of the ear incessantly.
“You suck!” A short man with wiry hair and a belly peeking beneath his T-shirt howled from across the parking lot. There, the god was but a man packing his guitar into a beat-up Ford Econoline. His heaven had deserted him.