The Music Room

The Fourth Of July

I take one last look at my reflection in the farmhouse full length mirror. Dressed in daisy dukes, cowgirl boots and a black bikini top; my face is free of makeup because I'll just sweat it off dancing. My dark auburn hair is left down in a pixie cut just above my shoulders.
Exiting the house through the front door with a sexy swinging southern walk. I saunter over to my cherry red corvette and take a moment to admire myself in the mirror before getting in. The sun set a few hours ago and the enormous Utah sky is full of billions of trillions of stars. I forgot how beautiful this part of the country was. I haven't been here since Alex owned the house.
The drive out of town was easy enough and it's only about half an hour to go. Tonight is the Fourth of July, even though this is no longer the United States we rebels still celebrate. We have our own way to do this of course.
Everyone parties, dressed depending on where you live. In my case at the moment it's country. We play music from the past, pure American music and we blast the hell out of the volume. We turn it up until it can't up no more. Everybody sings, and everybody dances. We all get loose and we all get free. Obviously alcohol is used but I don't need it; unless I have to try to blend in. Then at midnight we turn off all the lights in our part of the country. Everyone does this. At every party. A 21 guns salute is performed and then they shoot off fireworks. Afterward we all sing the Star Spangled Banner, at full volume, this is over three thousand parties with a lot of people. Our voices carry to the east. We build up the nationalism in the weak and frightened and hopefully get them to act out against the squares. Even if it doesn't we successfully piss off the soviets.
Parking my car on the end of the lot and begin the long trek to the crowd. This is one of the larger parties and already I can't hear myself think. When I reach the crowd someone hands me a beer and I accept but I don't open it. The music is already so loud that I can feel the bass. Slipping into the crowd I melt away my problems and pain, enveloping myself within the rhythm. Dancing with different people from different parts of the country and passing off my unopened booze for a random guy's car keys. For three hours of nonstop dancing I quickly lose my voice.
Around eleven thirty the music slows down to an easy pace and I feel someone grab my hips, these are strangely familiar hands and I am too high from the music to care. We dance together until ten til and that's when the exciting part begins.
Seven soldiers dressed in era gear stand on the stage. The crowd goes dead silent. No one moves or speaks. We all wait for the command.
"ATTENTION" the soldiers shout and everyone clicks their heels and go stiff as a bored in a respectful silence as two trumpet players begin the ceremony with taps. Halfway through with the flag at half mast, the soldiers salute the flag; then right face and present arms then they in unison shoot off a shot. Then wait a few seconds before firing again. They repeat the process three times. Then they lower arms and then left face to face the flag. After that the fireworks are shot off and at exactly midnight we all place our right hands over our hearts. The Star Spangled Banner plays at full volume and our voices are drowned out until the second time through. When the music is shut off and our voices carry out the wayward.
Everyone is full of pride as we sing our loudest and put our souls into it. The sound is glorious. It isn't about quality of the sound but the volume of it. Everyone around you is singing and so you sing, everyone knows we're all terrible but we sing clearly and precisely.

Patriotism is on high as our loud ringing voices sing for freedom, liberty and justice for all. We sing for the future, we sing for the past. We sing for ourselves we sing for each other. We sing for our parents who died in the struggle, we sing for the soldiers who ever sacrificed their lives for anything and anyone. We sing for our lives. We sing because we can. We sing because we have voice and the rest of the world doesn't know that we do. The world believes that everyone went communist; that there is no freedom. We must change that. That is why we sing.

Afterward everyone stops singing and we stand in silence for a full ten minutes, catching our breath and then we turn to the people around us, shake hands and meet new people. I meet seven new rebels in this moment. Ruth who is from North Carolina, Doxx who is from Louisiana, Roman who is from Ohio- I ask him how long it's been since he was there and he tells me it's not good, my heart sinks at his words. I also met River, Applejack and Maddox all who are from the Utah area. It turns out that Doxx was the one who I was dancing with before the ceremony. He's pretty cool; a black wearing, guitar playing, singing metal head. The music kicks back in with a crowd favorite that starts with a hard drum beat. "Do you know the enemy? Do you know your enemy? Well, gotta know the enemy!"
Everyone is dancing again and we all lose ourselves within the happiness of surviving another year without the soviets in our territory.

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Yay! Fireworks. This one had a happy ending. I'm surprised, My original didn't.
Oops.