o0Oo0Oo by Oberhofer on Grooveshark
Nimble fingers plucking out a random rhythm on a beat-up bass. That was everything to her.
She used to care about big, shiny parties. Sometime, she still shivered from the long-expired leftovers. She could feel the hungry people, clutching at her like finger sandwiches, soaking her skin in champagne. She remembered feeling beautiful at first. Like a tablecloth, you know, before.
White-on-black kicks, scuffed into something gray, textured, and tough tapped out a rhythm.
She used to dream about music. Now she needed songs to sleep. She used to roll down rivers, Brandon Boyd singing a lullaby while whatever new dad roamed the halls in the wrong direction. Her way. She let Lostprophets drown out all the girls who hated her hips, all the boys who loved her body, while she sunk deep into circuit boards and sound consoles. She was Tragedy Bound.
Lips popping out percussion, until clean, white teeth part and pull at the cheap, red second skin.
She lights went brought across the cityscape and she looked up. The gunshots didn't get any quieter. Police sirens and ambulances still roared like an angry crowd. The light was supposed to be about hope, but what's hope without music? What's imagination without a little desperation?
Then some creeper walked by, a zonked half-naked girl in his arms. Her mental record skipped.
STALKER by the pillows on Grooveshark
He was dressed like Chippendale's. It was just the sort of thing she'd see at the wrong parties back West. The music stopped, or at least it shouldn't have. She didn't notice the riffs ramping up. She only heard the ringing in her ears, her half-imagined battle aura like some anime. She imagined being strong.
Then she slammed her Rickenbacker hard across the back of his skull. He didn't see it coming.
The girl dropped, but he went flying a good 30 feet into a Cadillac. She hadn't seen that coming.
Then the gang across the street spilled out like ants. Then the blonde girl woke up and spontaneously combusted. Then a black girl cosplaying TRON goes to PROM descended from the sky. Then a random... girl? Boy? Street kid dropped a reuben and screamed like all hell. At her.
Holy rusted metal, Batman... She was glowing. Her bass vibrated like sex. The track changed...
Gold Guns Girls by Metric on Grooveshark
Nessa blinked. Nessa freaked out for exactly two and a half seconds.
Then Vanessa Elliot kicked a lot whole Metric ton of ass.
Music is love in search of a word. Find the words.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this song. Write something about this song .
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!
And with the team brick, I'll shelve that experiment. That said, if anyone requests more stories of any/all of these characters, I'm happy to continue. (Adamant | Michael/Noel | Cali | Legacy )
You never call... You never write... These old bones start to worry.
(c) 2013 Lawerence Hawkins. Seeking writing prompts and more.