Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Escape part 3

The thick leather straps seems almost to meld into my shoulder, holding the somehow familiar weight of the worn guitar against my hip. My hand rests perfectly against beat-up bridge, stroking out rhythms I barely recognize in my own head. The spotlight blocks out the audience, isolating me with the music. The drum behind me pounds away, pulsing vibration up my spine. Alien melodies pour out of the monitor in front of me, through the haze I can barely connect them with the guitar in my hands.

After the show the slick black limousine meets me outside amid a cloud of screaming fans craving a glimpse, an autograph, a picture. Three girls get in with us, unfamiliar but superficially friendly faces grin back at me.

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