"Creeping Death" A Kirk Hammett story

«Long live Stevie Nicks»

Sunday, September 26th, 1983

I opened my eyes, immediately blinded by the light.

Sitting up in pain, it felt as though someone was stabbing me with a knife, repeatedly in the head.

"Fuck me...where am I?" I mumbled under my breath groaning and rubbing my eyes to regain my sight.
It took a minute for me to adjust to my surroundings, I was sat on a beaten up old sofa in someone's shitty living room?

I racked my brain, trying to figure out what had happened last night but couldn't remember a damned thing.

I heard the muffles of people talking in another room so I got up and wandered out, down a narrow hallway into a small kitchen/dining area; a small round table in the centre of the room Lars currently seated slumped over, asleep. Cliff next to him with a cigarette between his lips whilst Kirk and James were in the kitchen discussing something.

I stalked over to the table and pulled a chair out before dropping myself on to it, head in hands, catching Cliff's attention.

"Oh ha ho, Stevie Nicks lives!" He laughed, ruffling my hair.

"What-?" I lifted my head up with a puzzled expression.

"Oh my go- you don't remember?" James said, butting in as he ran over to us beer in hand, Kirk following close behind sipping at his cup of tea.

"Remember what...?" I dared to even question him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last Night

Walking back stage with Kirk, the other three ahead of us I was going on about how great they all were

"And then when that guy threw the beer can at you during the cover of Last Caress and you hit it with your guitar and it smacked him in the lip!" I chuckled recalling the not so distant memory.

"Have to give it to him, he had good aim...mine was better though." A smirk played at his lips and I hit his arm playfully as we entered the dressing room area.

It was a tiny space with spare guitars, an amp or two and an extra drum kit. A couple chairs spread throughout the room, and two couches pushed up against the far wall, one of which was occupied by James and some random chick who was sucking his face clean off perched on his lap.

Kirk and I exchanged looks before he grabbed two chairs and sat them next to an amp, grabbing one of his guitars, sitting down and patting the other telling me to sit down,
"Hey I don't bite...unless you want me to!" I rolled my eyes smiling at the boy and taking the seat as I watched in awe as he fiddled with the strings, plucking at them to make sure it sounded right.

He finally started playing sending my teeth sinking into my bottom lip: watching his hands work their way around the fretboard and up the neck of the guitar with such caution and precision.

Lars ruined the moment by beginning to play the drums as loud as he possibly could making me jump.

"Lars!" About everyone in the room shouted in unison. He whined chucking the drumsticks to the side and crossing his arms over his chest, frowning.

"I'm bored! We should go bar hopping!" He suggested and honestly I agreed, we soon found ourselves going from bar-to-bar getting absolutely shit-faced. I had a couple of guys hit on me to which Cliff and Kirk kept immediately shutting down because I was so wasted I could barely remember my own name. We had gone all over town and found a club with a karaoke machine

To my drunk mind, this was like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Immediately running over and selecting my go-to,

'Edge Of Seventeen' by You guessed it...Stevie Nicks.