MuseMature

A piece of work with Burnthestars, but solely written by me.

I picked up my beautiful bodied Muse, caressing her every curve, her glossy frame. Of course I am on about my guitar. She had a glistening blue colour, with black tiger-like stripes upon her. I tried to mirror this, with my deep blue-black spiky hair and bright blue eyes. I wore black and blue bangles on my wrists and a choker round my neck that was adorned by deep sapphires. I had my ears pierced; one with a chain that ran from the bottom of my ear to the top, the other had three metallic studs that ran up the side. Then, finally my lips were done in snake bites, adorned with spiked studs.

I wore a black tank top, baggy jeans and a pair of skater shoes. I almost always wore a tank top, even when it rained, mainly because it had the word 'Pandora' scrawled across the back, which was after all my name. Or rather, nickname.

Anyhow, I picked up Muse and carried her carefully down the stairs and eventually, out the door. I was eighteen and in the final months of the final year of school. I hated school, I mean, who doesn’t? I had nothing there, no one there. I just had a little space reserved for me in a music room, which was it.

 As I walked through the gates and up the stairs to the music room I heard the normal chorus of whines moans and groans. People aren’t fans of rock here, this is after all one of those private, up class, classical places. But I had no time for them, so I simply stuck out my tongue and shouted abuse back, I can’t help who I am, after all. But then, the strangest thing happened. The stripes on my guitar shone a bright blue and things around me shook.

I didn’t drop her, like any normal person would, a strange feeling came over me and as I brought up my hand to play, my pick at the ready, it stopped. Something didn’t feel right, like it wasn’t quite time yet. So I shook myself and carried on to my place in the music room, plugging my guitar into my amp I did what was normal for me, I played as loudly as possible and when people complained I pretended I didn’t hear.

Although, my mind wondered why the hell that had happened, if it was just a side-effect of too much caffeine or something or if it actually happened; I think however, it was just my mind playing tricks on me. So, I decided to ignore it and wipe it from my mind as I finished playing Revontulet by Sonata Arctica. I moved on to Black Sheep and sighed, I played lead, but sometimes I wished for a little more, but those thoughts were only fleeting. For a moment however I did hope my guitar did glow, that something in my life was actually going to take a turn for the better.

I allowed the sweet music to embrace me, my Muse whispered in my ear. Tales of greatness, of power, I dismissed it as ludicrous that my guitar would be talking to me and instead put it down to the music. But I felt the warmth within me as I closed my eyes I swear I heard singing, the sweetest lullaby you could imagine; with the darkest words.

My tempo stepped up and I when I opened my eyes I saw a faint shine from Muse, as if she was...smiling. But something in my peripheral sent me turning round, “Oh, hey Josh.”

The End

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