Flash Fiction: Guitar Thief

My sleuthing had finally led me to the house of the thief.

I climbed the pipe and snuck in through the open window. I saw papers fallen everywhere. I spotted a small collection of musical instruments, probably stolen. Among them, I spotted my guitar. Before I could grab it, I heard footsteps coming up to the room. I quickly hid inside the wardrobe. Through the gap, I saw the thief walk in, pick the guitar and strum it in the most beautiful way. Kudos to him.

I realized that I did not want my guitar anymore. I wanted his autograph.


Word Count: 100

Prompts:

Friday Fictioneers 29th June 2018

FOWC with Fandango “Kudos”

40 comments

  1. I love the turn-around. More than once I have read someone saying something like: You stole my bike, I really hope you truly needed it…. I think this guitarist really needed it…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Nice one. The thief? Maybe he wasn’t the thief. Maybe he didn’t know the guitar was stolen when he bought it. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt since he was so good on it πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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