Chasing Your Dawn

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A tall dressed in black slim figure, a slow walk, voice deep, similar to an emperor’s, curled locks falling carelessly over his thin face, approached the stage. The crowd empty, but the lights gathered above him to expose his spark and heartagram’s glory. Ville Valo. 

His sight traveled across the empty battle field, so did on his ground- a carpet perfectly settled underneath his feet. He then let a deep sigh escape his throat with a cloud that spun into like a ghostly figure, then disappeared in the distance of the projector. The guitar, not too far away from him, was the only one watching him, so did the drums, bass and piano that were behind him, but the guitar was nearer. 

Talented he was. Music was life. The sorcery he casted for years and yet still finding and creating passion with his spider-leg-like fingers. 

Walking toward his fan, he picked him up as gently as he could and set the belt over his shoulder. He had the chance to look around while Ville was letting go of the other ghosts from the cigarette. 

He began to sing- short melodies. Long melodies. The sounds creates filled Ville’s circle like butterflies in a newly spring’s day. Just their fluttering wings bringing peace until somewhat a hypnotize state where you float with them…