OK, OK, I concede that this is NOT a short story, but it's short and I don't know where else to put it (and I'm too lazy to look I guess). Here it is. Tell me what you think people:
{Continued from a larger document that I haven't written yet
. This was written a looong time ago.}
-has to be loud, or else you might as well be listening to nothing at all. I don't mean "can't-hear-the-conversation" loud. I mean eyelid pulsing, breath-bated, finger-tingling, head-pounding LOUD. Loud. Like so loud that it feels wrong to breathe outside of the beat. Bass-bouncing-around-between-your-ears loud. The hum of the overblown amp gives life to the inner self. The tap of the snare guides the heartbeats of the man under the influence of music. The voice sends the soul out of body and into a world where none of this matters. A world of forgetting, a world away. No more pain, no more agony, no more remembrance. Only the beat. The electricity. The drums. The bass. The staccato tremors, the legato strands. And loud, it has to be loud.
This and more of my writing (if you enjoy critiquing) can be found at
this location.
