Secrets // MAYLOR

- one -

- August 9th 1968 -

Roger's POV

I was woken to the sounds of birds singing merrily outside of my open window.

Opening my eyes slightly, I saw that my curtains were blowing gently in the breeze, letting light flow into my room.

My eyes flicked over to my bed-side table, where my clock was ticking for each second that passed. It read nine thirthy-four.

I let a further twenty minutes pass before I decided to get up, pulling back the covers and unwillingly dragging my legs out of my bed.

I shivered as I pressed my bare feet against the cold, hard wooden floorboards which creaked and wailed as if they were in pain as I shuffled towards my dusty, un-used drum kit where I had left my clothes draped over one of the cymbals the previous night.

I hated the fact that I couldn't play my drums in my apartment but I just couldn't afford to make any more enemies with the old-aged neighbours, nor could I afford the heap of noise complaints that went with it.

I got dressed and walked out of my room, towards the kitchen counter to make myself a coffee.

I figured that I should take a walk today; not only was it a lovely day but I rarely took walks around the area anymore and I needed to exercise more often.

I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and made myself a nice, warm, steaming cup of coffee, letting the heat from the mug warm my hands.

I stood at my window, admiring the bright blue sky and listening to the birds chirp happily to one another, whilst trying to catch a quick glimpse of any car that sped past. I loved cars with their shiny coating and  sparkling wheel plates - it was a shame that I couldn't afford one myself.

After finishing off my coffee and leaving it next to the sink, ready to be washed up later, I walked over to my front door and slipped on my worn out and dirty shoes.

Heading out of my apartment building, I took a deep breath through my nose. The cool, fresh air quickly made all of my remaining grogginess dissapear.

- Roughly thirty minutes later -

I strode down the street with my hands in my pockets and no idea where I was headed when a poster, which was nailed to a wooden post, caught my attention. It was hand-written with bold writing:

• DRUMMER NEEDED •
--------------------------------
Auditions taking
place on 10th - 15th August
In Lion Studios
From 11am - 4pm
If interested turn up to the studio to receive your audition time
-
• Brian May •

I read through the poster a few more times, not really believing what I was seeing. The perfect opportunity. If this audition went well I would be able to play my drums more often and I would have a place to keep them which didn't take up too much space in my extremely small apartment.

The auditions began tomorrow, giving me plenty of time to prepare myself.

After finishing my walk, I headed back to my apartment to freshen up on my drumming skills, however the neighbours seemed to think otherwise- Just seconds after I dusted off my kit and began to drum, I got a hard and aggressive knock at my door.

Grumbling, I trudged over to the door and pulled it open to see Charles, or as he preferred me to call him, Mr.Harveys, stood there with his arms crossed.