Saturday, November 19, 2011

Flash Fiction: "Beware: Folk Rock"


"Beware: Folk Rock!"

Day 7 Flash Fiction Project Image by Rich Griffith
Image by Rich Griffith

It was another Thursday night, which meant another gig at the local coffee house, Ben Jonson’s Jonson. Tonight’s crowd was sparse, practically non-existent.

There was a dark, sullen, acne scarred hipster seated on a large, avocado green sofa. He pretended to read Sartre’s Nausea.

Two college girls sat by the stage. They were lively and colorful. One girl had a shocking turquoise bob and her girlfriend sported a bright red crew cut.

A tall man with short white hair stands behind the counter serving coffee and fancy cappuccinos

Lenny Trout and Caroline Schwartz-Bean took the stage. They were a semi-popular local folk rock duo called The Sheffields. They'd played together for almost eight years with only moderate success. If their fortunes didn't change anytime soon they'd have to call it quits.

And neither Lenny nor Caroline were quitters.

Lenny checked the amps. Caroline made sure the guitars were in tune. In addition to the guitars, they also had a nice Korg synthesizer.

Lenny sat on a stool. He strummed his twelve string acoustic guitar then glanced at Caroline. She stood behind the Korg and nodded.

Lenny struck a discordant chord. Caroline shook her head.

“Sorry about that,” Lenny said. “Let’s do it again.”

Another false start. Lenny laughed it off then he began again.

Lenny played a sweet, melancholic, chord sequence. Caroline played sparse notes on the Korg. She also sang lead.

“It wasn’t true, what they said to you, about me...” She cooed into the mic.

Tonight’s sparse attendance was actually fortunate because the acoustics of this coffee house we wonderful.

“Sometimes the truth is more true than true can be,” Caroline sang. "Remains of the day stole the only grains in my brain. What is true? What is lie? What is death? What is alive?"

There was a smattering of polite applause.

Lenny stood before the amps, a beautiful sunburst Les Paul Standard guitar, in his hands. 

Caroline played deep, descending notes on her blood red Fender Jazz bass guitar.

Lenny played a clean guitar lead with just a tad of reverb.

The two played for two minutes and then Lenny pounded out loud, screeching chords. He leaned back, the Les Paul high over his head, bent distorted strings cried into the night.

“Goin’ straight to hell, I’m goin’ straight to hell!”  Lenny growled. His rough, out of tune barking meshed well with the distorted whine of the Les Paul.

“Get out while you can! Get out while you can! Get...Yeah...Oh, Sh*t...”

He muffed the second verse but made up for it by launching into a blistering solo. His fingers flew across the fret board; his face contorted into the trademark orgasmic pain of the all powerful guitar god.

Caroline played a frantic, hyper-melodic counter bass melody.

“Get out before I go to HELL!!! Get out before I have to SOUL!" Lenny and Caroline both sang.

A Toyota Prius pulled into the coffee house’s car park. All four doors opened and 4 pairs of black trousers and black Oxfords emerged from the vehicle.

The driver stood over six feet tall. It was night time but he wore black aviator glasses.

“Never gonna fade! Never gonna die! I wanna get laid! I got it made! Oh, honey, I got it made!” Lenny roared above the cacophony of the distorted Les Paul.

The Sheffields were in the middle of their six-minute jam when the four men in black suits entered the coffee house.

“Get out before I go to HELL!!! Get out before I have to SOUL!" Lenny and Caroline sang again.

Lenny fell into playing rhythm thus allowing Caroline to take lead on the bass.

The man in the aviator glasses stood near the stage. His head slightly nodded in time with the music.

The tall man behind the counter leaned against a wall, his arms folded across his chest.

The jam continued for another minute and then the distorted guitar vanished into reverb and echo. Only low  bass notes could still be heard. 

“Sands of time find their way...into the veins that brain..." sang Lenny. 

Caroline sang harmony with Lenny: "Am I real...or did I die for no good reason...?"

The song ended with a slow, melodic whimper. The driver with the aviator glasses walked to the stage.

“The Sheffields,” he removed his aviator glasses.

“Yeah, I’m Lenny and she’s Caroline,” Lenny said. "And you are...?"

“Do you have a manager?” Mr. Aviator Glasses asked.

“Well, not really, no,” Caroline said. "we manage ourselves. We had a manager once but he was a complete d-bag. he ripped us off and-"

Mr. Aviator Glasses held up his hand. Caroline's voice trailed off into an embarrassed silence.

"Your name again?" Lenny asked. 

Mr. Aviator Glasses handed Lenny and Caroline business cards.

“Call me on Monday. I would like to manage you. I’ve heard good things about you. Good things. I've heard things.”

“Do you want us to play some songs for you now?” Caroline asked.

“No, not now. Make an appointment. Then shall hear you play. I shall hear you play.”

Mr. Aviator Glasses motioned to his black suited cronies and they exited the coffee house.

“That was Lester Von Halston. I can’t believe it,” said Lenny.

“Yeah, neither can I,” said Caroline. "The greatest manager in music history. What the hell is he doing way out here in Dumpwater U.S.A? What are the odds?"

"A billion to one?" Lenny replied.

“Wait...wait a second...Lenny,” Caroline said, “Lester Von Halston died two dead two years ago.”

“What?” Lenny said. “Wait, what? Dead?”

At that moment, the tall man with short white hair behind the counter, steps out onto the floor of the coffee house. He's clad in a beautiful hand tailored dark green suit.

He spoke with a haunting, funereal tone: “A two-bit duo struggling for years to make it big in the music business. Tonight they have a chance for success. Unfortunately, their only chance comes to them courtesy of...The Half-Arsed Subdivision of the Twilight Zone.”

Eveyrthing goes dark expect for two bright lights shining down onto Lenny and Caroline. They stare at their business cards, wondering what the hell is going on...

Demonic laughter reverberates in the air.


The artwork comes from +Rich Griffith. This story is my contribution for Day 7 of the G+ Flash Fiction Project  coordinated by +Becky Raymond.

(c)2011 JohnEdwardMoretz. This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons and events in real life is but a coincidence.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Week Three of NaNoWriMo 2011

Well, it's week three.

At the rate I'm going my book will be finished on Christmas Eve, ha!

It's all good. At least I have a story, a plot, and some semblance of a structure.

I've been handwriting like mad. Just need to get an updated word count.

Friday, October 28, 2011

NaNoWriMo Update! Plot Synopsis!

Okay, I have a plot synopsis:

"It is the year 2031 and the Sun is dying. No one knows why. Most of the Earth's population has died. Two people come in contact with a mystical Shaman who might be able to help the last of humanity survive the end of the world."

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Let Us Count The Good Things In Life....

Pizza: Psychedelic Bread Created by the Gods

Steam rises from new born pizza pie
Scent of cheese, sausage, pepperoni, and steak
Steals my soul upon a natural high
Heaven demystified, pain vanquished
Caloric slices color my mind
All thanks to the glorious effects of
New born pizza pie

Self Pity, Self Loathing

I should never have been born,

               I am an aberration.

                             I am a failed abortion

                                           a mistake for the ages

Serpent's rain waters fall from the sky

               flooding uncontrollably my pained eyes

                           on the blood-stained Cross I cry

                                              Eden, Blood, Divinty, Flood

"Why hath thou forsaken me?"

Saturday, October 22, 2011

NaNoWriMo Update!

Well, not much, really too update. I have a title (I think), Entrails of a Dying Horse: Earth Songs of Yesteryear, and the genre will be sci/fanstasy/satire.

More news when there is more news to report.


Thursday, October 20, 2011

NaNoWriMo Time! Novel Writing Time is Here Again

Come on, folks. Pick up your pens, turn on your computers, and fire up thy imaginations, because it is once again time to NaNoWriMo.

Follow me unto this journey as I attempt to write a novel during the month called November.

Man, am I gonna get shit-faced drunk in trying to write enough words for a novel.
But a man's gotta do what he's gotta do, and if that entails drinking Barcardi then do that I shall!


Serpentine Stars slither
        'cross the sky of night
the Swan laughed,
         the Hunter cried,
                     and Leo the Great just died
...what is suicide but self-inflicted abortion?