It was the pinnacle of his achievements: Nobel laureate in literature. His brow was weighted with the night before, a forge had nested in his head — from drinks and girls. He smiled, remembering the blonde student that was the climax of their bacchanal. Today he would receive the prize from the hand of the Swedish King.
He opened his eyes,focusing, he saw a stuck ceiling and chandeliers.
‘This is not my hotel room’, he panicked just as the TV-cameras captured the famous poet lying naked on the floor of the concert hall.
Today the king’s entrance went unnoticed.
This week’s picture I thought about the award ceremony of the Nobel prize. Some authors might take out some of the joy of the celebration. Especially if you forget to bring your clothing to the ceremony.
Friday Fictioneers is run by queen Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and each week the prompt attract close to 100 participants.
June 17, 2015