Three Word Prompt: Amadeus, exculpated, and verbose
Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
"Well, it's like this, kid," Igor murmured to the wasted figure, tapping out his cigarette and musing out the window. "This is just a tiny matter of nomenclature; you needn't fret so over his name. You act as if it is some holy judgment over you.
"But really, 'Tonio, so he's Amadeus. So what? You think that Austrian had a monopoly on God's love? God, in his day, used to be all about love. Sure, you acted on shameful passions, but that was long ago--you've exculpated yourself by now, kid. And Wolfie is dead! He isn't your rival anymore. It's your turn to be loved! Not by me, naturally, I was waxing verbose about your little God idea.
"Look, get over it. Call yourself Theodore. Soak up some of that love you always wanted. Write some new stuff, no need today for inspiration, talent, that crap. God knows! Except for Youmans. Try it, really! They'll eat it up."
As Igor rose and out, the bitter, benign old man absolved him as the cell door clanged shut and was locked. He thought about tone rows and sighed.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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