Byronic — Excerpt

January 4, 2012 § Leave a comment

Note: An excerpt from a short story called Byronic undergoing a second draft.

“Crap.”

Jesse looked down at the puddle he had stepped in. His left foot was now soaked to the bone. It was pouring rain so hard that even the umbrella he held did not do much to protect him from the cold droplets falling from the sky. London was funny that way. Gray skies covered by gray clouds overlooked a city of tall, contemporary, gray office buildings, and old, grayer townhouses. People in gray business suits stalked purposefully down the gray streets in their gray slacks and gray shoes. Even the morning fog was gray as it spread across the Thames like a virus so gray, gray, gray. London was nothing like Fort Lauderdale.

He came upon yet another gray building – 77 Electric Avenue. He rapped on the door once, twice, three times, and then stood back, adjusting the guitar case on his back. After a few minutes of nervous gulping and awkward throat clearing, the door opened to reveal a young man in the early years of adulthood himself, except that his head was covered in silver — not gray — hair.

“What do you want?” the stranger asked.

“I’m auditioning for…” Jesse pulled out a hastily cut newspaper clipping. “Byronic.”

“What do you play?”

“Guitar.”

The silver-haired person in the doorway pierced Jesse with a sword-shattering gaze. The latter could only gulp nervously. God, what was he doing here? He had already been turned down by several other bands. It served him right flying across the ocean on a cloud of his own hopes and dreams. At this point in the game, they were falling, crashing in the form of the raindrops falling onto his head. Not for the first time in the last two weeks, Jesse contemplated leaving at once and boarding a plane to finally return home after this bout of foolishness.

Then the yet unnamed stranger in the doorway took on an expression of what Jesse interpreted to be extreme boredom and motioned for him to enter.

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