The Audition - A Tale of Terror Part 2
Posted: Tuesday, April 21, 2009
by Ryan Stroud
Jim climbed into the Beretta, shutting the door behind him. He laid the back of his head up against the headrest and closed his eyes. "This is my ticket out," he thought. "No more cleaning up after wasteful, rude richies. No more disgusted looks from them. No more of their crap." A small smile crept up his face. His eyes slowly opened up. He looked around at the tattered car. "After the couch, you're the next thing to go," Jim said to the car as he started the ignition.
The directions were not hard to follow and Jim found the home with ease. It was a dark looking small home surrounded by a forest of dead trees and broken brush. He parked on the street, looking toward the home. An uneasy feeling came across his belly and Jim shrugged it off as nerves. He gathered his things and got out of the Beretta. "Well, here goes nothing," Jim thought to himself. He quickly walked up the long driveway toward the door when his cell phone rang.
"Hello," said Jim.
"Jimbo, what's up, man? Are you at the audition yet?"
The voice on the phone was Corgan Butcher, a friend and fellow musician. Corgan had also sent in a demo to Grave Peril, hoping to get the chance to audition. Murphy called and had told Corgan he had seen him perform in the past and though he liked the way he played, he was too small for the part. This had highly confused Corgan. He was a tall man, standing around 6 feet, 2 inches, though he weighed a good 60 lbs. lighter than the slightly heavyset Jim, who was just 6 feet. Corgan didn't let the rejection bother him, at least not in front of his friends. Secretly, he was angry about the denial and drank many nights to a blur because of this. Corgan also felt this was his only chance to make it, just like Jim. Jim had suspected Corgan might have felt this was his only chance at fame and could be jealous but shrugged it off. Corgan was his friend and if he got the job, he knew Corgan would be happy and supportive.
"Yeah, I just got here. I'm walking to the door now," Jim answered.
"Hey, is that house scary looking or what? Every time I drive by it I get the willies. Don't let that bother you, man."
"I know what you mean and no, I won't," Jim said. But it was bothering him. Something about the house didn't seem right, something odd. "Is this the house where that woman went crazy and killed her husband and family?"
"Yeah, well, kind of. It's the one where the son went crazy and shot his parents while they slept. He killed himself in his bedroom shortly after, but not before he had the chance to dance with his dead mother," Corgan said.
"What?"
"Don't you remember, the local papers said evidence showed the son picked up his mother and danced with her after she was killed? The blood on the floor is what gave it away, I guess. Any way, I guess that's why Murphy bought the place, you know, because of its history or something."
"Dude, that's really messed up. Murphy must really be messed up."
"Yeah, but he's one great bass player."
Jim could hear a bit of anger in Corgan's voice. Corgan was jealous but was still nice enough to call Jim to wish him luck. At least he hoped so.
"Look, man. I hope this works out for you, ok?" Corgan said. "I hope they see what a great player you are. You stage presence is amazing and you can sing really well. They'd be stupid not to pick you. But if it turns out that they are, in fact, really stupid, and they don't pick you, you want to start a new band together?"
This was a ploy to get Jim to walk away from the audition, he knew it. Jim was silent for a moment and said, "Sure. We can do that. It'll be fun. But I need to focus now so I'll talk to you later, alright?"
Jim could hear Corgan shuffled his feet through the phone. Corgan took a drink of something and said, "Ok, man. Good luck. Hey, why don't you come over afterwards? We can get a case of beer and sit on the back porch and talk about how, one day, we will be the most famous rock stars in the world."
"Ok, we'll do that," Jim said while shaking his head in disbelief. "You take it easy, brother; I'll see you in a bit." Corgan didn't answer; he just hung up the phone. Jim, putting his phone on silent mode, looked up at the house as he shook just the slightest. He placed the phone in his jacket pocket and thought, "I'm sorry, Corgan. I need this. I won't mess this up for myself, not even for you."
To be continued...
Ryan Stroud is a military trained journalist who has served in Iraq with the 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, US Army. Prior to his military experiences, Stroud grew up playing, coaching, and refereeing soccer. Also, Stroud focused many years of his life playing, touring, and recording/producing local music acts. He has a wonderful wife of 4 years, a 2 year old son and a newborn daughter.
Stroud's biggest writing influences are Jim Butcher, Chuck Palahniuk, Edward Lee, Jack Ketchum, Christopher Moore and Ben Fox.
He currently resides in Huntsville, Al, with the 59th Ordnance Brigade at Redstone Arsenal.
Stroud would also like to take a moment to thank his friends who are currently in battle over in Iraq. God bless all of you.
This Article has been viewed 41 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
No comments yet.We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.