I sat on the edge of the room, my back against the wall. "Can no one sing or anything?" A voice asked out, a desperate and irritated plea in the dark.
"I learned a lot about falling in love when I fell out of love. I learned a lot being a friend when I was alone." Marty's raspy voice sang out as he quickly strummed the guitar.
He sat on a chair in the backyard, surrounded by a crowd. He ended the song, looking up from the guitar. He grabbed the beer beside him, taking a sip.
"I hate this, and I hate all of you, but Brad said I'd get a hundred bucks for this shit." Marty moved forward in his seat,
A voice choked out before shouting, "I said fifty. I told your brother to tell you fifty."
Marty smiled, standing up, moving the guitar strap off his shoulder. "I'll just stop then."
"Screw you. Fine, a hundred dollars." Brad yelled back at the malicious lower class man.
Marty smiled, pushing his glasses back into place. "This next one is older than me."
Silence filled the crowded gym. Everyone was huddled close to their family, everyone having someone to hold close to them. Everyone except Kennon and I. He sat against a wall, holding his knees tightly against his chest.
I looked at Marty his lips pressed together, a dam, holding back songs and tunes.
"You should play something. I think someone has a guitar." Winona whispered to her brother.
He shook his head, his nose ring reflecting in the light from the small fires spread around the abandoned gym. "I don't remember how." His voice was soft, despite it being a lie.
"That's bullshit." I muttered.
"Then you play something." Marty snapped back.
I looked at him angrily. He had a gift when it came to music, he could hear a song twice and know how to play it within fifteen minutes, on any instrument. I shook my head at him, moving to go sit near Ferris.
He was digging through his backpack. "Are we really leaving?" I asked.
"Yeah. Are you packed and everything?" He asked.
I nodded, looking to my backpack next to Marty. His arms moved in a familiar pattern, pretending to hit a drums set. His preferred instrument.
Candles were blown out, heads laying down on their backpacks and piles of clothes. I put my head against the floor, waiting for Ferris' command.
YOU ARE READING
To The Grave
HorrorI had never seen the stars, not in their full glory. Lights across miles and miles of towns created a thick layer of light pollution blocking out most traces of the universe surrounding us. Now I could look up and see every star. I flicked cigarett...
