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Black Rose
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Black Rose |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN 
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Considering the amount of people crammed into this tiny, downtown club there was an astounding amount of noise. A hundred or so people ranging from scruffy teens to casually clothed office workers crowded the dance floor. They were talking with their girlfriends or testing the waters with a promising blonde, or maybe a brunette. I watched them swirl about from behind the stage curtain, pushing to the bar to yell for a drink, flirting, talking...living. I drew back behind the curtain, distancing myself physically from the dance of life as I had mentally for years. Ten years of solitude and infinite drudgery to be exact. Ten years that are finally about to end. I’ll never forget the day that Jason Nelson walked out of my memories and into my apartment. A long black suitcase in one hand and that indefinable sweet and sour look on his face. He walked right up to the table and swept my TV dinner aside setting the case on the table and opening it to show a gleaming ax. Of course we had been in touch before that but never before had I seen him act so bold. The guitar on the table was my very own from thirteen years earlier. Charcoal black, rosewood fingerboard, the nick right below the Predator logo. I fingered the strings thoughtfully and wondered aloud, “Where in all hell did you find this?” “Your dad found it in his attic, I managed to convince him to find it for you, Adam. You have to get over her. Christina left you, it’s time to move on. All you’ve done for the past thirteen years is work and wander around your apartment. You look as if the entire world has spit in your face. You need something to do, man! “I’m starting a band with Jeff, and Andy. That’s a singer, bassist and drummer. We want you to be our guitarist. You’re damn good and you know it, and you’re going to be our guitarist. Practices will be at five o’clock in my apartment. The address is in the case. I’m late for work, I’ll see you then,” he said imperiously. Who was I to argue? I went to practice every Monday after his visit. My school age friends, all grown up and matured, accepted me without a thought. We stayed up to all hours of the night, living on delivery pizzas and threads or raw music. I broke from my reverie to step aside for two stagehands carrying Andy’s drum set. The bass drum screamed “Black Rose” at the world in garish, ebony script. We personified the name with our black instruments and the matching tattoos we each had on our right shoulder. A name of two parts: Black for our tone and our lyrics and Rose for Andy and Jeff’s great hero, Axel Rose. Jeff, Andy and Jason closed around me then their eyes sparkling with excitement and teeth gleaming like a wolf’s. “Are you ready to rock?” Jeff mock roared as the lights went out. I showed my teeth and the four of us mounted the stage, grabbing our instruments and posing in the pitch. The crowd was going crazy, crushing up against the stage in a flood When I saw the others were ready I played that opening note, thin and wailing. I coaxed the note higher and higher as a spotlight shone down on me like liquid heat. I took the note up to an inhuman scream and then took it plunging down to a guttural roar. The rest of the band surrounded me in a sonic wall. Familiar and human yet reeking of pain and violence as it swirled around us. The first song, “Black Rose” ended and we were urged on by the screaming crowd to play more. We played the “Slayer,” “Inside,” “Long Night” and a dozen more that I’m not sure of. All I knew was the spiraling music, ebony ax and my fingers. Strong, gentle fingers coaxing, but never forcing the notes. I remember that grand finale though, a tribute to the late Axel Rose, “Sweet Child of Mine.” I played those heart piercing notes and thought of Christina. Damn it all if it hurts! I swore I’d never stop loving her and I damn well never will. I felt the solo coming up, sensing it rather than hearing it. It broke on me like a wave and the torrent of my emotion came flowing out. I stroked and picked those strings with everything I had evoking wail after wail of despair stained guitar. Then I found myself kneeling on the stage, the song apparently over. The crowd was right before me screaming and groping for my tear stained muscle shirt. The guys helped me off stage, not saying a word the entire time. No words were needed. I didn’t say a word while I packed up my guitar and Jason gave me a ride home. I choose to climb the stairs so I could think, though I could not. I only had one thought. I entered the apartment and threw myself in a chair and laughed. All those years of misery... And yet during the space of four minutes I played my guitar to heaven and saw Christina looking down on me. < !signature--> Abrahm Simons "I'm not sick, but I'm not well, and I'm so hot, cause I'm in Hell." - Harvey Danger [This message has been edited by Dusk Treader (edited 12-08-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Abrahm Simons - All Rights Reserved | |||
LoveBug
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697 |
Abe, this is a great story you've told here. After all of those years, he finally found peace through one song. It's amazing how music can touch us, and you describe it well. You've met the "challenge" well.  "Where there is great love there are always miracles" -Cather "Love heals everything, and love is all there is"- Zukav |
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Alwye
Moderator
Member Elite
since 1999-06-16
Posts 3850In the space between moments |
Jeff, Andy, Jason, a band....hmm, sounds a little familiar, LOL. Exellent story my dear, I especially loved your vivid descriptions of playing that guitar...I can picture it perfectly. Well done!  *Krista Knutson* "One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar." Helen Keller |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
I felt as though I was there with your character! Excellent sir. (but one point - 'a gleaming ax'?) |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
The pull of the music...the pull of love...felt both keenly... Karilea If I whisper, will you listen?... I would rather be silent and write, than speak loudly and be bound. KRJ |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
DuskTreader~ This is just a wonderful story. The intensity with which the character became as one with his ebony ax was spell-binding. I was caught up in the performance. The attention to detail was remarkable. (i.e. the Predator logo) I feel that this was a personal achievement for you ... Congratulations ! I enjoyed it tremendously. ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ noles1@totcon.com |
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Wesley the Blue Member
since 1999-09-02
Posts 426Forest Lake, MN, USA |
Dude, your stuff gets better and better every time I read it. Keep up the excelent work. Keith Even in the darkest night, someone will be there holding a candle for you. |
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Skyfyre Senior Member
since 1999-08-15
Posts 1906Sitting in Michael's Lap |
Abrahm: I must say that this piece rings of truth, as does any work of good fiction. Your storyline was well-constructed and well-delivered, with a consistent and believable tone throughout. My only suggestions for improvement are technical ones: you could do with a bit more variation in the length of your paragraphs and/or sentences. Too much uniformity in that area draws the reader's attention away from the important elements of the story. Try setting up one or more of your character's epiphanies or introspections as paragraphs unto themselves, consisting perhaps of a single thought or sentence. For example, the last few sentences might be arranged thus to achieve a more dramatic effect: I didn’t say a word while I packed up my guitar and Jason gave me a ride home. I choose to climb the stairs so I could think, though I could not. I only had one thought. I entered the apartment and threw myself in a chair and laughed. All those years of misery ... And yet, during the space of four minutes, I played my guitar to heaven and saw Christina looking down on me. See how that draws attention to the epiphany that Christina is in fact dead, rather than simply estranged from the speaker as was suggested earlier in the piece..? Well done, Abrahm, all in all. You will someday no doubt be a formidable author. --Linda < !signature--> Remember: maintaining a positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will certainly annoy enough people to make it worth the effort. [This message has been edited by Skyfyre (edited 12-03-2000).] |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Thank you all for your replies, I appreciate them all greatly And thank you Linda for the advice, I modified my story to reflect it.. It's amazing how much a little spacing can help. Abrahm Simons "I'm not sick, but I'm not well, and I'm so hot, cause I'm in Hell." - Harvey Danger |
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raleighbttrfly Member
since 2000-11-21
Posts 160Raleigh NC |
Coming from some one that has been around a band or two that was a grate pice. There is alot of honesty about how people feel about there music and how it afects them. Grate work! [This message has been edited by raleighbttrfly (edited 12-04-2000).] |
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Marilyn Member Elite
since 1999-09-26
Posts 2621Ontario, Canada |
Wow Abrahm. I had a few moments and thought I'd stop by prose. I am very glad that I did. You pulled me right in with this story. Excellent work as always. (Linda has some good points. Listen to her. ) |
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Ruby dagger Member
since 1999-08-01
Posts 76Wyoming, MN, U.S.A |
Wow, great imagery. I love how well you described the feeling. Luv Kelly "At the right time and place, a question was more deadly than any sword." -Mercedes Lackey |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
yes, roses, music, everything about this ; I loved What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the words I have read in my life. Walt Whitman |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
Abe - a resounding applause from me down here on the dance floor as well! Though I feel a bit like Sharon, I have to say that this is now my favorite from you. Wholly outside your normal style of writing both in content and delivery, this STILL manages to cut a swath across the senses and deliver an almost aural sensation of grinding gears and plucking strings. I am VERY impressed with the voice you found to present this piece mr. Abe! VERY impressed. C Sharon - "Grinding axe:" You know, Guitar! LOL |
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