New World | SOOKAI

Chapter 1

I sat upon the wooden stool behind the counter inside the music shop at which I was employed. A special bottle of wood polish next to me sat open, a soft rag in my hand, gently but firmly sweeping back and forth across the sea blue starburst wood of the electric guitar that I had chosen to admire for the afternoon. A Fender Stratocaster, limited edition. Though this one was a new release, its history began in the 50s when they were first manufactured. They were a staple amongst some very famous guitarists. Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, just to name a few. The instrument was what truly made The Blues and Rock n Roll into the timeless sounds that they were and still are. An instrument that demanded your respect and admiration. It had been sitting in the front window for close to 4 months, but with my boss's rather unthinkable price tags, and the more affordable competition down the road, it was merely an overpriced painted piece of wood to the common window-shoppers that passed by. But I knew better. I knew the beauty of the sound that this kind of craftsmanship could produce.

I looked down at it, admiring the shapely curves and mesmerizing mixture of colours within the overhead shop lights. The twinkling of the thin wraps of metal strings that led up the maple neck, the everlasting shine of the 6 machine heads poking out from the famously shaped head stock. I suddenly felt the urge to make her want to sing, since no one else seemed to want to bother.

I looked over my shoulder at the door that led out to the back room and kitchenette that my boss was currently in, he was trying to weigh up paying his bills with what little money he seemed to never stop telling me he had. Though with the working hours of mine he had cut back dramatically, I did somewhat believe him. I laid the instrument carefully on its side upon my right thigh, reaching down to the floor to pick up the guitar lead that was plugged into an amplifier behind me. I plugged it in, a sharp distorted noise rang in my ears from the amp already being turned on. I turned the volume knob on the side of the guitar up to half way and made sure it was set to clean instead of distortion. I gave it a quick tune and played the C major chord to check if she was ready, and she was. I reached across my table to pick up the black metal capo and clamped it down onto the 3rd fret.

I played the ever famous opening notes of that timeless 60s song, feeling myself become lost in the sorrow of the notes. I had been playing that song a lot. I began to sing quietly, almost a raspy whisper in the way I let the words leave my mouth.

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back

It had been over 2 months since the incident, but singing those lyrics out loud transported me right back to that not so special 20th birthday of mine when I got the news. The policemen at my front door, a grim glance upon them both; hard and set like concrete. And the words that followed that would lead to the darkest depths of pain and disbelief I had ever endured. The beginning of my end.

My playing was interrupted with the back door opening and my boss standing within it, looking down at me disapprovingly as he often did.

"Jesus Christ, Kai.."

Here it came. The complaining. The nagging. The 'I don't pay you to do this' and the 'Go do something useful'.

"I don't fucking pay ye' to sit there and play all day! Go put that back in the window. How are customers going to buy it if it's behind the counter with you all bloody day?"

"Yes, sir.." I said quietly as I unplugged the instrument and walked with it to the front of the store to put it back in its respective place in the street display window.