(Written for Friday Fictioneers – 100 word story)
An artist needs that, he thought. The constant dissatisfaction and artistic eccentricity which gives impetus to the want to prove oneself.
His art never seemed enough… just falling short of touching the aorta – leading straight to the heart.
That day, he played like a man possessed. His fingers blended with the piano keys. His clothes, famously flamboyant.
He crashed hard, just in time to not see his first standing ovation. Firemen found it difficult to separate him from his piano. He was one with his music. Literally.
He wanted a dramatic catharsis. And he got one. With just a ‘stroke’ of luck.