“This is gospel. For the vagabonds. Ne’er-do-wells, insufferable bastards. Confessing their apostasies. Led away by imperfect impostors.” Her guitar strummed along, breaking through the thick silence of dust and broken memories of a forgotten school, “If you love me, let me go!” The last note hung, her heart screaming along to the lyrics and lifting her ambitious creativity beyond what they school expected her to have from eight hours within the mocking halls of teenage gossip girls and hormonal teenage boys who couldn’t hide their under the deck excitement for the life of them.
The lyrics ceased, her guitar strumming to a different tune now - a more original one and must more slow paced.
“I collect all your sin. Place a needle through a pin-” How did that make sense?
The blonde groaned, restarting the tune and clearing her throat, “I am the broken angel. My darkness taking the soul of the power hungry. I will be your antidote, to save you from your expectations and sorrows. Listen to me, for I will take your life into my hands. I will protect the outcasts, for we will unite and power over our successors. Listen to me, for I will burst through your walls. Bring me your creativity. Honor me with being your voice.”
Yes, much better. She smiled, refining the tune to fit the song and to emphasise her message. Did she sound cocky? She hoped so, it’s how she’d been feeling lately.
With the help of the music teacher, she’ll be able to open her own school band! She only needs three other members to get the council approval. Hopefully, she’ll get some people who had a sense for music and aren’t a bunch of giggly girls obsessed with love songs.
Her guitar continued on, making a tune of it's own as if it had a soul. She was certain it did. A witch must have cursed it before passing the instrument on to her late father. It may just be wishful thinking, but her guitar was her best friend - her only friend. Ama - the name etched into the back of the wood from her father when he first bought it in his college years - had been with Moji from the beginning. She couldn’t part from Ama ever, but her last days were coming and Moji had to prepare herself.
(Lyric credits to: Panic! At the Disco.)
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The Paint Brush and the Pick
RomanceBeing a guitarist with an ambitious dream, Imogene plans to one day join into a band of her own and rock the world! Her frequent habit of staying after school leave Moji alone in the schools basement often where no one disturbs her and where no one...
