#1 The Light At The End of the World
His manager and his parents said that money couldn’t buy happiness.
But it had. At least until the band broke up. And when his wife left him for the bass player, it’d also bought his escape.
Thirty feet of sail boat. Provisions. All the tech necessary for a crew of one to capture the wind.
And an aft cabin full of dynamite as a backup plan.
His mother told him to have one when he joined the band. He hadn’t listened. This time, he took her advice.
He could not plot “obscurity” into the onboard navigation, but he came close. The same path, always east, as much as the winds would allow.
The emptiness of the sea made no difference.
On the fourteenth night, he drank until he stumbled, set the timer for sunrise, and played until his guitar screamed its rage and fury out across the sea.
The dynamite ignited as the sun cleared the horizon swells. The light at the end of the world burned brighter than racks of stage lights. A roar beyond any crowd of fans took the ship down into oblivion.