"Dreamers, they never learn."
Thom is a young boy who loves his life in the rusted wastelands of corrugated iron. He has everything he needs to survive: food, water, his guitar, his Walkman, and an imaginary band.
Any links to real people are purely...
Most of the "homes" out in the scrapyard were just abandoned buildings or houses, Thom's in particular seemed to be some sort of military bunker with multiple rooms- though compartment A and B were the only accessible ones without huge piles of concrete and rebar so those were the only ones he used.
Closing both red doors to compartment B, a sense of relief flooded through him with a deep exhale as he knew he was now safe from whatever was out there.
The thing that only made its presence known at night.
He knew it was there because he rarely slept, and he knew it would only watch him from the window at night. If he stepped out, it would get him. So he needed to keep it away.
He quite liked to draw as well, and Stanley's base was never free of new inspiration or art supplies just as the walls of Thom's fort were never free of drawings of whatever night terrors lurked outside.
Usually, the makeshift cassette player on his cold, concrete floor was good enough to help him sleep, but today, it was supposedly a Friday. So he wouldn't be listening to music.
He would be making it.
He dramatically pulled back a curtain with a flourish to reveal his "band," introducing them all to Carl one at a time.
He pointed to a tall bundle of metal rods fastened together to resemble a body, though it looked more like a stick figure. Its head was a vertical rectangular cardboard box with "Eddie's Gherkins" written on the side.
"That's Ed. He plays guitar when I can't, and he looks a lot like he belongs in The Smiths!"
He then showed Carl another shorter metal stick figure with a grey frying pan for a head. A face was drawn on with black marker as if a scribble, representing the face.
"This is Colin, but we just call him Coz. He plays bass, and he's damn good at it, too! He's also really protective of Jonny. They are brothers, after all..."
Thom proceded to describe the next band member- Jonny- in this same fashion, as if he was a child telling his new friend all about the powers his lego characters have and demonstrating their abilities using actions.
"Jonny" was an old rake with black spokes. It was bent at the "neck" to represent wispy hair.
"That's Jonny! He's the lead guitarist and a bloody genius!"
The drummer wasn't free from the theatrics either.
He showed the medical dummy what looked like a trashcan and attached- a white balloon with a black marker face drawn on. He then said:
"And finally, this is Phil! He's the drummer, and he's incredible! He can play in all sorts of crazy timings," He said in admiration.
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"And altogether we make... On a Friday!" He declared, proud of the name.
He glanced at Carl and then back at the band members for reassurance.
"Well, what do you mean it's not very creative?" He whined to the dummy."We practice every Friday, so we're called On a Friday, it only makes sense."
He looked at Carl, but the dummy didn't offer any change in expression.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. We need a better name. "
He decided to pick up one of his cassette tapes and look at the list of songs on the back. He thought long and hard about which song to use.
"What about... Radio-head?"
Seeming satisfied with Carl's response, he got to wearing his guitar and placing himself in front of the microphone, which was really just a rusty iron rod with an old oval hairbrush attached to it.
"Ok Radiohead, 3, 2, 1 GO!"
Thom played a few well rehearsed notes on G major, then the same few notes on B major, then C, then C minor.
He began to sing.
When was I here before?
Can't look you in the eye
I don't know my own name
'Cause your skin makes me cry,
Fall prey to the weather
In a "beautiful world"
I wish I was special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
"Yeah, and that's all we have so far," said Thom.
"It's all about my struggles from living in this place, I decided to personify it in the song- your skin makes me cry? That's all the cuts I get on my feet and legs from trying to navigate round this bloody hellscape."
On that note, Thom realised he forgot to disinfect and bandage his legs today and quickly tried to get to his first aid. He slipped and scrambled like a dog before falling to his knees and then crawling desperately to the box. Before could make it, his vision went black and he passed out from blood loss.
