The Artist And The Atheist

| 1 | ARENA |

بسْمِ ٱللَّٰهِ ٱلرَّحْمَٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ
In The Name Of Allah, The Most Beneficent, The Most Merciful

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

16 Months Later.

Laser lights of different colors pierce the air with the same feeling of ecstasy as that of the audience. Thousands of fans cheer loudly, their voices booming in the air. The stadium, which was once lifeless, is now filled with many young boys and girls. Cool air sweeps past them, and the darkness of the midnight sky conceals their drunken state.

She looks around the stadium from the stage. A euphoric feeling overtakes her, and an enormous grin forms on her face. To her, it seems as if the stars have descended on the earth as Velvet's fans sway their flashlights, singing the song along with all four members. Her eyes crinkle in delight. Wafa gazes to her right, watching her bandmate, Ivan, too, has the same bliss plastered on his features.

After all, today is the first anniversary of Velvet.

"Put your hands up in the air!" Alan shouts. "Let's sing the last song together." A large camera slider makes his live videos, displaying them on magnificent LCD screens on either side of the stage. "After then, Velvet has prepared a little surprise for you, lovely folks." The brown-haired man winks, and the audience shrieks, causing laughter to break out from his lips.

After a second or two, the lights get dimmed except for a few laser lights rocking rhythmically. The tune of the violin plays lowly, and Wafa begins to sing.

Her voice is soft, and her words fall in perfect harmony. Each and every syllable uttered from her mouth is clear, and the light music adds beauty to it, drowning the audience in what feels like another world, a world where they feel no pain, a refuge where they forget the bitterness of their lives.

But for how long? When the dawn emerges, then where will they go?

The people in the arena sing with her, pausing where the vocalist pause and continuing when she continues. As she ends a verse, the low-tuned music changes into slightly heavy beats, and Kyle overtakes it from there smoothly, singing the pre-chorus in his mellifluous voice.

Had it not been for over fifty speakers set in the stadium, his voice would have surely muffled with the shrieking of his fans. After all, his admirers are hundreds of millions of people

ubiquitous, followed by Ivan.

The charcoal-haired man stops singing for a few seconds before they reach the chorus. Then the voices of all four singers amalgamate with each other, forming a perfect harmony, and birthing the feeling of euphoria within the crowd.

As the music again drops to low beats, Ivan begins to sing the following verse after the chorus, then Alan proceeds to sing the bridge, and Wafa finishes it.

The dark clouds loom over the sky. People are lost in their own temporary bliss, moving their bodies seductively, oblivious that the morning sun will soon rise and expose their reprehensive deeds. For how long will they run from the light? Do they think the darkness will remain eternally, and they can continue their acts without a just reckoning? Yet, they proceed to remain ignorant.

And now, the arena is akin to the black sky as most stage lights are getting dimmed. The members, altogether run to the center of the stage under the small rays of moonlight, just as they rehearsed.

The whoosh sound of two rocket fireworks from the middle of the stage launched in opposite directions making a V, pierce the air. The intensity of the lights brightens, and thousands of red and white colored petals spread in the air across the stadium, thrown by large blowers.