Do you want to hold my hand: A collection of My Chem Descriptions
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Twang.
That was the sound of a string breaking. It had been pushed so far that it had collapsed under the surging power of the player.
Hadn't he learned, by now, to take it easy?
His energy was at a level above all the others.
His friends had told him this in a heated debate, thus why he was outside at night.
He had to be more careful.
The player looked down is dismay.
Not another one, he thought to himself, as he flicked the metal back & forth with his ink-covered finger.
His thick black hair surrounded his face.
Was he ashamed? Did he agree with his friends?
Hidden under the dark mass, a deep, sorrowful sigh was heard.
Hair flew threw the air as he flicked his head skyward, brushing it out of his face in one swoop.
Adjusting to the light, he looked out over the large concreted area.
Looking for help.
He saw no one.
Desperation set in.
His breathing steadily increased as he fails to spot anyone who could help him. What was he to do? This was a matter of instrumental life or death. He couldn't let his friends know. They'd go all I told you so on him.
Where is everyone?, he wondered.
He rushed over to stage right.
Running down the stairs to backstage, he still sees no one.
He sprinted across the car park, panting heavily, the crackling of his windpipe creating raw friction on his throat.
Help, he tried to yell. No sound came out. The inside of his mouth was parched & raspy.
He came to a halt in the middle of the deserted grounds. He spun around, his guitar swinging around his torso with him, looking for any movement, any sign of life.
Until. There he was.
A silhouetted figure walking towards him through the darkness. His shoes making a scuffing noise along the ground, echoing off into the distance. The hem of his pants swaying in time to his movement. Hands tucked firmly into his pockets & his leather jacket clinging to his skin, ready to burst at the seams along his arms.
Help has come, finally, he though to himself as he surveyed the unidentified figure.
Closer & closer, the figure moved towards him through the night.
He was less than 10 metres away, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1....
Gone.
The figure passed him by in the night, without even a glance back at him.
"Hey!", he called. The figure kept walking on.
"Wait! Wait for me!", he screamed as the figure became smaller & smaller with distance.
Come back, he thought desperately. Don't leave me by myself
He stood frozen in his spot. The black of night creeping in around him. A single lamppost stood a lit. Until it all went dark.
That was the sound of a string breaking. It had been pushed so far that it had collapsed under the surging power of the player.
Hadn't he learned, by now, to take it easy?
His energy was at a level above all the others.
His friends had told him this in a heated debate, thus why he was outside at night.
He had to be more careful.
The player looked down is dismay.
Not another one, he thought to himself, as he flicked the metal back & forth with his ink-covered finger.
His thick black hair surrounded his face.
Was he ashamed? Did he agree with his friends?
Hidden under the dark mass, a deep, sorrowful sigh was heard.
Hair flew threw the air as he flicked his head skyward, brushing it out of his face in one swoop.
Adjusting to the light, he looked out over the large concreted area.
Looking for help.
He saw no one.
Desperation set in.
His breathing steadily increased as he fails to spot anyone who could help him. What was he to do? This was a matter of instrumental life or death. He couldn't let his friends know. They'd go all I told you so on him.
Where is everyone?, he wondered.
He rushed over to stage right.
Running down the stairs to backstage, he still sees no one.
He sprinted across the car park, panting heavily, the crackling of his windpipe creating raw friction on his throat.
Help, he tried to yell. No sound came out. The inside of his mouth was parched & raspy.
He came to a halt in the middle of the deserted grounds. He spun around, his guitar swinging around his torso with him, looking for any movement, any sign of life.
Until. There he was.
A silhouetted figure walking towards him through the darkness. His shoes making a scuffing noise along the ground, echoing off into the distance. The hem of his pants swaying in time to his movement. Hands tucked firmly into his pockets & his leather jacket clinging to his skin, ready to burst at the seams along his arms.
Help has come, finally, he though to himself as he surveyed the unidentified figure.
Closer & closer, the figure moved towards him through the night.
He was less than 10 metres away, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1....
Gone.
The figure passed him by in the night, without even a glance back at him.
"Hey!", he called. The figure kept walking on.
"Wait! Wait for me!", he screamed as the figure became smaller & smaller with distance.
Come back, he thought desperately. Don't leave me by myself
He stood frozen in his spot. The black of night creeping in around him. A single lamppost stood a lit. Until it all went dark.