Smashed Guitar

What a rush! Standing on that stage was like standing on top of the world. Looking down at a sea of people, moving to your beat. You are their God, and this is your day. Your voice pulses to them like electricity and your guitar twist them like a tornado. The energy flows through the mass and back to you, on center stage, on top of the world.

That’s what it felt like I recalled. Those were the days. I sang along, all alone, closing my eyes trying to see the crowd trying to feel the power again. I can see it so clear with my eyes shut. I can feel the band playing behind me. But when I open my eyes, I am alone, leaning against a speaker.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve gone crazy or how much sanity is left to live on. Everything seemed more real with my eyes closed. The sounds vivid, I could see faces shining in headlights. It always comes as a shock that when my eyes open the sounds came from an old cassette and the only faces to be seen were faded photographs.

I laughed when the tape stopped. Every picture laughed back at me. They continued to laugh long after I stopped.

“Shut-up!”

There was silence. I was alone. Maria stared at me, her mouth open ready to sing. She was always waiting to sing. However, who was there to listen. Only me, and her songs made me cry, ever time. The songs were not sad; they were beautiful as was Maria, once.

She once shone cherry-red with graceful curves, and elegant engravings along her neck but now she sat in the gray reality fading along with the photos and warped by the seasons along with my mind. Her voice was still clear and enchanting, as I would never let Maria die. I keep her tuned so when she does speak it is her voice I hear and none other’s. I took Maria in my arms and strummed a single cord. A bell answered.

‘Bring bring.’

I blinked to dry my eyes and cleared my throat“Hello…. wait slow down. Who? I don’t- No Ma- am! - Yes this is Mr. O’ Keel- But! …Hello…. hello?”

I grinded my teeth. Silence again filled the room. A mad man’s muttering and footsteps feel rose and fell unsure of what had just happened. The woman had been terrible pushy and it was probably the only phone call I had gotten all month. Unfortunately many more calls were promised. “Wednesday 5:30. Wednesday 5:30.” Repeated the mad man searching for a pencil