|Before the Hurricane
Author: Tuxedo Mark PM
2031. While rehearsing on a windy Autumn evening, Priss is paid a visit by a woman that offers her guidance.Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 970 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 07-23-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3062386
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Before the Hurricane
Written by Mark Moore
I wrote that story on Tuesday, September 6, 2005, from 8:30 PM to 8:33 PM and from Friday, April 28, 2006, 4:00 PM to Friday, May 12, 2006, 12:39 PM. Part of my problem (lack of motivation) was due to the fact that I'd have to write 3 stories of a character losing her parents, which I really wasn't interested in slogging through. The B-Club Visual Comic tells it well enough. If you want to read it, search for the translation online.
There were, however, two scenes that I wrote that I wanted to keep. It's a short, standalone story. I worked on it on Friday, June 23, 2006, from 10:00 PM to 11:00 PM. Comments and questions, both good and bad, are welcome. Enjoy the story.
It was dusk. The club would open in a half-hour. The cool wind blew in through the open door. Autumn breath.
Priss was trying to compose a new song on her electric guitar.
"People are trying...to capture our beloved dreams." Priss sang.
There was an idea in that - perhaps a possible song as well. Priss picked up a pen and scribbled the line on a piece of paper.
"That sounds good."
Priss looked up. An old woman was standing in front of her.
"How'd you get in here?" Priss asked her.
"The bouncer let me in early to see you." the woman replied. "I'm a huge fan."
"Of me?" Priss asked in surprise.
"Yes." the woman replied.
"But you're ancient." Priss said. "How could you like my music?"
"I used to be a singer, too." the woman replied.
She walked over to the stage and climbed up, sitting to Priss' right.
"No shit?" Priss asked her.
"No shit." the woman replied.
Judging by the woman's accent, Priss guessed that she was an American. Priss wasn't surprised, considering the large number of Americans that moved to Tokyo after the earthquake to help with the reparations.
"What kind of music did you sing?" Priss asked her.
"Rock." the woman replied. "You're pretty good."
"I wish I had more fans like you." Priss told her. "I don't seem to attract large crowds."
"May I make a suggestion?" the woman asked.
"Shoot." Priss told her.
"Put a bit more excitement into your performances." the woman suggested. "Flashing lights, a band, music that you can pound your fist to, music that pulses through your bloodstream and sets the stage on fire."
"You got anything in mind?" Priss asked her.
"Well, as a matter of fact, I do." The woman reached into her trenchcoat's right pocket and took out a jewel case. She offered it to Priss. "This disc has footage of some of my concerts - as well as audio tracks of myself and another artist known as Bonnie Tyler. Perhaps they'll prove inspirational."
Priss took the jewel case. "Thanks. How about a seat close to the stage tonight?"
The woman smiled. "I'd like that. Thank you."
Priss smiled. "If this'll help me attract a larger crowd, it's the least that I could do."
The building was empty, though.
Priss returned to her dressing room.
She saw the jewel case on the table.
Priss picked it up and opened it. There was a note inside that read: "Time to wake up all the dreams asleep in your heart."
She took out the disc, turned on her player, ejected the tray, placed the disc in the tray, pushed the tray back in, and pressed PLAY.
The concert footage started.
Priss sat in her chair, set the jewel case and note down, and watched all of the concerts and listened to all of the songs, completely amazed.
After the disc stopped playing, Priss sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to absorb it all in.
One repeated word in one of the songs kept coming back to her: tonight. She liked it for some reason.
Priss picked up her pen and started to write down some lyrics that were coming to her. She sang them softly as she wrote: "On the stormy highway,...wheels spinning in the lonely night,...elusive dreams, memories of yesterday. Bitter lies and illusions...was my way of life. The howling wind strips them all away. Big city, standing here, we're heart to heart, children lost, seeking love out in the dark. Big city, still surviving day by day, will you ever ease the pain...tears won't take away? Tonight, a hurricane. Feel the hurricane, spending this lonely night loving you. Tonight, a hurricane. Touch me, hurricane. Show me your love with your touch,...burning touch."
It seemed like such silly lyrics to Priss, but she thought that, with the right performance, it might sound cool.
Priss smiled. "Thank you, Ellen Aim."