Flash Fiction: The New Guy

images

The New Guy

By Sean C. Wright Neeley   

I noticed him immediately. He arrived here too soon, but they say the higher power knows best.

He was beautiful in varying shades of purple – violet, amethyst, and lavender.

He was diminutive, but fit.

He had flawless caramel skin and large, hazel eyes. The eyes had it. They were intense with a mystery I never wanted to solve. He had a beauty mark on his left cheek – the period at the end of a sexy poem.

I knew of him before he came here, but he knew nothing of me. I decided that I would go talk to him on a day that he looked especially stunning with the clouds swirling around him in all his purple glory. His guitar hung casually from his shoulder.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” His voice was especially deep; nothing like the falsetto I had often heard in song before.

“I’m Laura…”

“Prince,” he said with a shy smile.

“I know who you are. I-I was listening to your Sign O’ the Times album when the drunk driver struck my car. I only got to hear two songs. I was wondering if…uh.”

“You’ve been here since 1987?”

“Yessir.”

He smiled his cat-ate-the-canary smile, and put his guitar into playing position. “Say no more, Laura.” He performed his whole album for me. And all the angels gathered around to hear the small, beautiful man in purple play his guitar.

This short story is a tribute to one of the most prolific entertainers who ever lived: Prince Rogers Nelson (1958-2016). He was one of my favorite musicians, and his untimely death left me flabbergasted. He would have been 62 this month. Here’s my goodbye letter to Prince, as well. https://seanarchy.wordpress.com/2020/04/21/goodbye-prince-2/

IMG_4170

I’m pleased to announce the release of my 8th book, Skoll’s Diary.

Africans and African Americans left Earth in 1900, and went to another planet in The Milky Way to escape mistreatment…

It’s now the year 3005 on that terraformed planet. We get a peek into the life of a bright and sensitive teenaged boy, Skoll, through his journal. He loves his world, but is curious about life on Earth. Then suddenly, an epic event casts him in the middle of a difficult decision.  The fate of the planet’s community is in his hands.

Get the book here. I’d appreciate your leaving a review if you read it. Thanks in advance!

Afro-Sean-Commission-Final copy

Goodbye, Prince

Today marks the 4-year anniversary of Prince’s death. This post was originally posted in 2016.

Dear Prince,

My first memories of you were in the 1970s when I was a girl. Patchwork denim was everywhere. I had a head full of plaits, and remember enjoying your songs when they came on in the car. “Do Me, Baby” was choice, even though I had no idea you were singing about grown folks’ business; VERY grown folks’ business. I became further entranced with you with “1999” in elementary school. That album was visionary, energetic, and just well…fun.

Prince Yearbook

Prince Afro

Puberty loomed with your release of Purple Rain. I was 12, and began to notice your beauty, as well as your talents. You were a compact dynamo of genetic artistry:  slim, creamy-skinned with good bone structure and hazel doe eyes. And boy, was I ever mad jealous of Vanity and Appolonia! I nourished my crush the best way a teenage girl does, with posters, albums, and buttons on jackets. I had my parents get me a cake with your likeness on it for my 13th birthday. I often went to sleep, dreaming of you and your compelling world of colored lights, lace, glitter, purple everything, and doves.

Prince purple rain

1988. I was 16, and my parents gave me your Sign o’ the Times cassette tape for Christmas. I was instantly struck by the single “Starfish & Coffee.” It was melodious and whimsical; simply poetic. It made that frigid winter downright warm and Zen.

I continued eating up your genius with LoveSexy and Diamonds & Pearls. “Gett Off” was the jam. In college, a girlfriend introduced me to your more obscure stuff, like The Black Album. It was then that I realized your penchant for humor with the satirical “Bob George.”

Prince raspberry beret

The whole time, I was entranced with your breathtaking chameleon style. Your hairstyles changed as often as the weather, and were always flawlessly coiffed. I SO dug your colorful, well-tailored suits, tunics, hoop earrings, and unique props. Your gun microphone was just so…Prince. I loved it!

And your dichotomy was amazing. You were playfully raunchy one moment, a coy gentleman the next.

I saw you in concert in 2004. You, of course, didn’t disappoint. The pinnacle of that magical evening was a hail of confetti and streamers falling from the ceiling.

Your passing was like a gaping gash to the Purple Heart. It was a Thursday. When I found out, all of the above memories rushed back to me in a fond, warm gush. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. My life with you in a small suburb of Dallas, Texas, flashed before my eyes, too. Then the sadness took hold as I realized all that would cease:

Poetic verses with infectious melodies.

Outrageous outfits that only you could slay with your beauty and confidence.

Purple magic, period.

The world became lackluster and flat in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day.

Anyway, I thank you, Prince Rogers Nelson, for entertaining me and countless others with your beautiful abilities. Thank you for sharing your unforgettable third eye visions with us. You penned deep, ethereal lyrics, and kept us partying like it was 1999 for about 40 years.

Goodbye, Sweet Prince. Until the end of time, I’ll truly adore you.

Prince headshot

Sean C. Wright is the author of the short story collection A Gathering of Butterflies and the novella Honey Riley.

SpaghettiWords

Send me your typo images! Snap pictures and email them to msseanc@aol.com. They must be real pictures and not images in online links, as those might be doctored. I’m looking for The Real McCoy. Conceal the company’s identity if possible. No sweat if you can’t. I’ll hide the name before I post it. We’re not looking to embarrass, but to educate.

Goodbye, Prince

Dear Prince,

My first memories of you were in the 1970s when I was a girl. Patchwork denim was everywhere. I had a head full of plaits, and remember enjoying your songs when they came on in the car. “Do Me, Baby” was choice, even though I had no idea you were singing about grown folks’ business; VERY grown folks’ business. I became further entranced with you with “1999” in elementary school. That album was visionary, energetic, and just well…fun.

Prince Yearbook

Prince Afro

Puberty loomed with your release of Purple Rain. I was 12, and began to notice your beauty, as well as your talents. You were a compact dynamo of genetic artistry:  slim, creamy-skinned with good bone structure and hazel doe eyes. And boy, was I ever mad jealous of Vanity and Appolonia! I nourished my crush the best way a teenage girl does, with posters, albums, and buttons on jackets. I had my parents get me a cake with your likeness on it for my 13th birthday. I often went to sleep, dreaming of you and your compelling world of colored lights, lace, glitter, purple everything, and doves.

Prince purple rain

1988. I was 16, and my parents gave me your Sign o’ the Times cassette tape for Christmas. I was instantly struck by the single “Starfish & Coffee.” It was melodious and whimsical; simply poetic. It made that frigid winter downright warm and Zen.

I continued eating up your genius with LoveSexy and Diamonds & Pearls. “Gett Off” was the jam. In college, a girlfriend introduced me to your more obscure stuff, like The Black Album. It was then that I realized your penchant for humor with the satirical “Bob George.”

Prince raspberry beret

The whole time, I was entranced with your breathtaking chameleon style. Your hairstyles changed as often as the weather, and were always flawlessly coiffed. I SO dug your colorful, well-tailored suits, tunics, hoop earrings, and unique props. Your gun microphone was just so…Prince. I loved it!

And your dichotomy was amazing. You were playfully raunchy one moment, a coy gentleman the next.

I saw you in concert in 2004. You, of course, didn’t disappoint. The pinnacle of that magical evening was a hail of confetti and streamers falling from the ceiling.

Your passing was like a gaping gash to the Purple Heart. It was a Thursday. When I found out, all of the above memories rushed back to me in a fond, warm gush. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. My life with you in a small suburb of Dallas, Texas, flashed before my eyes, too. Then the sadness took hold as I realized all that would cease:

Poetic verses with infectious melodies.

Outrageous outfits that only you could slay with your beauty and confidence.

Purple magic, period.

The world became lackluster and flat in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day.

Anyway, I thank you, Prince Rogers Nelson, for entertaining me and countless others with your beautiful abilities. Thank you for sharing your unforgettable third eye visions with us. You penned deep, ethereal lyrics, and kept us partying like it was 1999 for about 40 years.

Goodbye, Sweet Prince. Until the end of time, I’ll truly adore you.

Prince headshot

Sean C. Wright is the author of the short story collection A Gathering of Butterflies and the novella Honey Riley.

SpaghettiWords

Send me your typo images! Snap pictures and email them to msseanc@aol.com. They must be real pictures and not images in online links, as those might be doctored. I’m looking for The Real McCoy. Conceal the company’s identity if possible. No sweat if you can’t. I’ll hide the name before I post it. We’re not looking to embarrass, but to educate.