My stories!!

[Rachel]

I still havent found a propper title for this story... heres the first 3 pages... its still work in progress, definatly a continuation story in progress!

Road to Tempe

By: Rachel Lese


“Satanism is not about ritual sacrifices, digging up graves and worshipping the devil. The devil doesn’t exist; Satanism is about worshipping yourself, because you are responsible for your own good an evil.”- Brian Warner a.k.a. Marilyn Manson.
I was falling so fast I could feel the air whipping around my eyelids. I couldn’t begin to try to shut them I was falling so fast…..man that stuff Trent gave me must have been strong. What…wait I was supposed to be falling? I might be in some sort of wind tunnel, or that ride at the county fair, where you’re spun so fast your feet leave the metal contraptions barrier. I began to see lights, bright lights. The kind you see on Tye Dye hippie shirts, swirling and mixing with each other. Either I was heading toward some hippie hell or….
“Check, check, one, tw….”
I could hear the booming of the amplifiers being tested, and then the microphone cut off.
“D-Wolf!!!, get your lazy ass up here!”
Wait, that was my name, well sort of. I heard our dressing room door open and a tall, burly bald me grabbed the back of my shirt. He must have not seen the “Do not Disturb sign”, or the “Breakdancing Justin crew only’ sign either. I remember his voice was senseless, and cold. The kind of voice you never want to hear again, but it usually belongs to your mom, or girlfriend.
“Get out there and go do your job, you worthless roadie!” He yelled, and threw me the length of the room. It took every bit of strength to pull myself up, I wanted to kick this guy right in the face, but I could never take him. I steadied myself in the hallway and used the wall to help me walk toward the stage. The bald man ran past me and gave me a menacing eye, the kind of eye my parents give me.
“Yo, get up their and do your job!” A man with heavy dark eyebrows yelled in my direction. He pointed me toward the stage, I looked around and saw the walls caving in, the ceiling was falling!. I looked ahead and two members of the Emo-core band ‘Roots’, where going to be in the midst of the catastrophe, I grabbed one of them for support.
“Dude, he is as high as the Goodyear blimp!” They started laughing. I brought one them inches from me face, he was as pail as a bag of flour. I let him free to go back to his twin like friend, both had long black hair, and every time they moved it sounded like a chained prisoner trying to escape. Chains, and rings hung from their clothes and faces, but all I could focus on where their flour colored faces swirling together, like ingredients in a mixing bowl. F-L-O-U-R was plastered across my vision; I had to hold back a laugh. I reached for the R and got a tug on the back of my hair.
“There you are D, I though you had finally gone somewhere to finish what you call this life of yours?” Grape said, he was serious this time, he was sick of my antics and my abuse.
“Listen, I will set this show up. You are I no condition to do anything” Grape Said. I couldn’t understand the words he was saying, his mouth contorted and all I began to see was swirls of black and white…what was happening?

When I black out the only thing that visits me in my darkness is my past, is
my family that’s so ashamed and my brothers that are so perfect. They all come over to lend a hand to my destruction. I had always been very different from my family, I loved to play guitar, when my brothers played football and soccer. I was more secluded and had a set group of friends, while my brothers seemed to know everybody. The biggest difference was our hang outs, my brother loved to go to the hamburger diner or the football field. I was a metalhead, I spent most of my time and money taking the bus into the city and seeing any live rock concert available. My friends and I would wait days in line to get first row at all the big shows. A couple highlights have to be Alice in Chains, Metallica, Pantera, Marilyn Manson, and so many more. My parents didn’t approve of this at all. And threatened to kick me out of the house if I didn’t get back into school and get my priorities straight. So I left on my own, I didn’t need any more coxing, music was my priority.

I woke up to the tour bus lurching to a ‘pedal to the metal’ moment. I was thrown from the couch; I could hear Ms. Mark yelling vulgar terms. He had the worst voice I had ever heard, he sounded like Carlos Mencia sucking helium. I was able to right myself and walk down the steps of the bus. People where everywhere. Grape was holding 3 guitars above his head and packing them onto our bus. I saw Zombie and Dingo get onto the bus and flicking off everyone outside. Ms. Mark was sitting in the drivers seat ready to leave…’ but there’s now way the show is over’ I thought. Our singer Casio, walked past me with his shirt over his face, soaked with blood. I was shocked…what was going on? Grape finished packing the equipment and told me to ‘Get on the god damn bus!”


7 pages left... if u guys want me to keep posting?

[Rachel]

the rest..

Everyone was pretty quite for the first hour until I asked what happened. Casio laughed and said: “I went for another stage dive, and no one wanted to catch me. But I did take out two little punks that had been heckling me all night!”
“You didn’t need to physically hit them though!” Zombie said, Zombie was the happy medium he is what kept the band together.
“Yeah, then once Casio started wailing on those teens, The crowd decided to get on stage and kick my drum set in” Dingo yelled “You know how much damage they caused?”
“I tried to get it under control, but there was no hope, it was a mad mess of violence and crazy teenagers.” Grape said shaking his head.
“Yeah, but they ended up screwing themselves over cause OURS wasn’t coming out after that, so all those people didn’t get to see the headliner thanks to their stupidity.” Said Dingo.
“Hah, so we got kicked out for starting a huge ass riot! That’s so rockstar!” yelled Casio as he stood up and pumped his fist in the air.
Nobody woke up the next day until evening. Grape had drove the bus to a nearby rest stop and hooked up the water so we could actually shower. I woke up with the biggest headache in my life. Grape was outside cooking on one of those park grills. I stuck my head outside the door and asked.
“What you making?”
“Tofu burgers!, you want one?” Grape asked with the hugest smile on his face. He was an avid vegetarian, and loved to make the rest of us suffer.
“No, I think im gonna go shower and make something later” I said.
It’s quite an experience living with 5 other guys on something like a medium sized tour bus. There’s no privacy and no consideration. Showering is a rarity with us, we usually go 4-5 days depending on where in the state we are. Our shower reminds you of standing in on of those glass boxes while you try to catch all the one dollar bills falling from the top, or that’s at least what I thought. We only got cold water, so you wanted to get in and out as fast as possible. It was especially hard for me because I tried to get my dreadlocks as clean looking as possible. It was quit a task, since I have had them for close to 3 years. I wanted to get out quickly, I didn’t like small spaces, I dressed quickly, I wanted to sit outside and breathe the fresh air.
I met Casio on the way to my bunk, he had a huge purple and orange bruise that stretched across his face. His eyeliner from last night had melted off, and it looked like black tears had streamed down his face.
“We have any warm water?” Casio Asked
“Nope” I siad. Casio scrunched his eyebrows and rubbed his right arm that was heavily tattooed with random things like a mangled tree, with bodies hanging from the branches, a mermaid with black scales, horns, and purple skin, and a huge orange rose, with a blue eye emerging from the center of the flower, on his shoulder. He was defiantly a character.
Casio had the most interesting story of all of us. He grew up on the beaches of California. His parents were loaded, and he was an only child, he had it made. Casio had always loved to sing, he had been a member of his churches choir, and had formal training in occapella and opera singing. He never took a stage singing like that though. He dropped out of college to pursue his dream, of becoming a rockstar. After that his parents legally disowned him, they didn’t want their name associated with such ‘low class’. Casio sings his heart out especially when we do shows in California. I don’t know why he wanted the nickname of ‘Casio’, he told me he liked the watch. I think that’s why we don’t go by our real names, we don’t want recognized, we don’t want to remember the lives we left behind.
I joined Grape outside, and watched him chow down on his vegan dinner. I loved it when we had a break, time to set our bus up on campgrounds and just chill for a day or two. But what I didn’t like was the location, why when we camped our bus, so did every suburban cookie cutter family as well. Why when I walk to the rest stop rest room, do I get fingers pointed at me, whet gives them the right to stare?
That is what as happening right now. I was sitting cross-legged on the bench while Grape munched on his burger; Casio had come out with a towel on, wanting to dry his short black hair in the sun. He sat down next to Grape, and put his arm around him.
“Ah, how I love my roadies, you guys have my cigarettes right?” Casio asked.
“Yup, How could I forget, you smoke like a frigging chimney, Cas!” Grape told him, as he handed Casio his Camels. Casio pulled one out and smoked away. Just as a tall blonde women walked by with her 2 young children. She covered her daughter’s eyes. As Casio started them down, watching them walk away. Grape ruffled his bright purple hair and stood to throw away his paper plate.
“f**king prudes, their no better than us, but damn they must think it!” Grape shook his head.
“Hey, this is what I think of you!!” Casio yelled in the blonde’s direction. She turned around, and looked at us. Casio crossed his legs and pushed his cigarette butt into his left arm, it smoldered on his flesh, but he didn’t yelp at all. The blonds hurried her children off as her husband followed behind her. He walked over and stood about 10 feet from Casio.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why don’t you all go back to the hell you came from?” The husband yelled and spat in Casio’s direction.
“Hahaha, you guys see that badass, they wont be judging us anymore….im EVIIILLL!” Casio laughed.
The husband turned back around and glared at Casio. Casio was cracking up, but focused in on the husbands face, and held one of those weird, your f**king crazy stares. Casio widened his greens eyes, and gave the man a smile.
I stole a cigarette from him and laid face up to the sky, dreaming in my head. My mind took me to the stage, to the huge festivals and arenas I dreamed of playing. I loved metal, but I didn’t think of it as the devils music, I thought of it as art. Yes, ‘Break dancing Justin’ was our name, and we are a metal band. We are different though, even on musician standards. Each member has his own style, and self. We are all so different from one another, but we blend so beautifully that it equals something amazing. One thing that was different about us was, we all were there for the music, yes we dallied in some drugs, but in the end we loved the steel guitar more than anything.
“Yo, D we got to start headin toward Tempe, we got 72 hours to get there!” I heard Dingo yell from the bus.
Within 2 hours we had packed up everything, and where on the road for 3 days straight. Grape was driving the first 20 hours and then we would switch. We were heading to the Tempe Arena Festival, it featured close to 70 bands in 4 days. Some huge headliners for the past couple years had been Motorhead, Snoop Dogg, and Radiohead. Yes, we were playing on the ‘garage band’ stage, but a gig was a gig, and it equaled gas money.
I spent the first hour with my head against Dingo’s shoulder as he read everyone the review of the disastrous show we had corrupted the night before. Dingo was the youngest in the group, 20 to be exact. We had found him New York, he had been the drummer of a Nirvana tribute band. We were scheduled to play a set after his and our drummer was a drunk, emotional mess. Dingo volunteered himself, and learned our 3 songs in 10 minutes. He was brilliant; ever since them he had been a influential member of our band. Dingo pushed back his long red hair, and put his head against mine.
“Ah, screw Fort Worth, it’s their retarded fault they wanted to hit each other!” Ms. Mark said.
Ms. Mark, had the worst voice I had ever heard, he sounded like a preteen girl with a European accent. Him, and Casio had met in college and had been inseparable ever since. Mark was a mystery, we knew he was from some weird overseas country because he had had that awful accent ever since Casio knew him. But he was allowed to keep his secrets, he was a great bass player, that’s all we needed to know.
“Grape, can we stop at the next BP, I need to get some food?” Zombie asked.
“Sure, I need to fuel up anyway.” Responded Grape.
I righted myself up on the couch and played with the piecing in my ear. I was studying my converse shoes closely and noticed a small hole beginning to show in the sole. I needed to start wearing thicker socks, I guess.
We all ran off the bus at BP, Casio volunteered to Fuel up the bus. Zombie flew through the door, and headed straight for the Deli. He was wearing the brightest Tye-Dye shirt, and bandanna I had ever seen. It reminded me of my trip last night.
“I gotta get some Green Tea too!” Zombie told me as he walked by. That’s one thing he couldn’t live without Green Tea, and Spinal Tap. Zombie was the oldest, the hippie of the group. One show, he did In full Jimi Hendrix style, wig, makeup, fringe, bellbottoms, the works. He was our guitarist so it worked amazingly. He even played the Star spangled Banner before the show that night.
We all felt like kids in a candy store, piling our fruits onto the counter while Grape paid the cashier.
“Where you guys headed?” the young cashier asked.
“The Tempe Festival, got 70 hours to go man!” Dingo said to the cashier.
“Cool, man keep up the rock n’ roll, drive safe.” Said the cashier as we grabbed all our bags.
“Thanks, you stay safe too, gas stations are a scary place sometimes!” Casio said with a smile.
Casio pulled out a cigarette and leaned against the bus.
“Man, its people like that, that make me want to play music. People that believe, and feel what we feel onstage. It’s the greatest feeling in the world, you can do anything, run from the cops, scream for your mother. Do whatever you want. I think that’s why I chose this life, I want to mold minds, I am like a teacher, but I teach the best subject of all, self worth and identity, that’s what music’s about.” Casio was truly a poet.

The next 2 days was a blur, driving thru desert upon desert, cactuses, and scorpions. Any longer driving thru this and I was going to go crazy. The only thing to really do is sit and analyze my fellow sufferers. Boredom had taken it toile. Casio was at the wheel, his eyes brutally focused on the lined pavement in front of him. He was so focused that his mouth hung open some and his right eye was crossed. Dingo was lying on his back playing with one of those toys where you get the ball on the string in the cup, he wasn’t succeeding. I remember when I was younger, when I dreamed of being on the road with a metal band. Well, I was living my dream but it was nothing like I envisioned. I envisioned party 24/7, constant fun. Don’t get me wrong it was fun, most of the time, but it was times like these when you realize that you truly care about you band-mates. I realize that these guys are my true family, there the only people that understand me. Music defines me, and has created who I am, it’s all I know. But I believe some higher power brought me to Grape 3 years ago, we were meant to cross paths; we are meant to take this journey together, all of us.
I laughed as I thought of all the adventures we had together, not just Grape and I, but all of us. Zombie was passed out on the sofa, with a parka over his face. I remember one time I found Zombie and Dingo with their heads in a bucket of bleach. They were drunk as hell, screaming “We want hair like Fabio!” over and over. I will never forget it.
“What are you grinning about?” Ms. Mark asked me.
“Ah, I am thinking about old times.” I said.
“You remember how we thought of the band name?” asked Mark.
Yeah, I remembered that weird conversation; we were all bored one day listening to the radio. We weren’t a performing band then, we all crashed at Grapes place in southern California, we were weekend warriors then. Working toward our dream of ruling the world with our music. All of a sudden a N’Sync song came on the radio, it was a live broadcast and teen girls were screaming their heads off.
“Man, this Justin kid is a joke” Dingo said.
“What, You know his frigging name, Dingo!” yelled Zombie.
“Yeah, he’s some rich ‘momma give me everything’ suck up, with an afro.” Casio laughed.
“I wonder sometimes if he can spin around on that big hair of his?” exclaimed Zombie.
“Wow, Zombie, a break dancing Justin, what a sight that would be!” I said.
And that’s how we got our name, “Break dancing Justin”.
“Hey, look, 12 miles to go until Tempe!” Casio screamed as we got onto the freeway.
“So close, this is our break guys!” Dingo said as he stood up, and whooped out the window.
“You wait Tempe, we are gonna melt your faces off!” Dingo yelled!

The Tempe festival is everything I dreamed of, the moment you got off the bus the smell hit you like no other. This had to be what Woodstock was like, it had to be. Everything smelled like vodka, and smoke, and music. If music had a smell, that’s what it would be.
The garage band stage was small, the size of you average living room. We didn’t play until 4pm, so we had all day to get our equipment set up on the stage and to just enjoy the festival. We were all extremely rested, and wanted to get showers and go enjoy some live music.
After we cleaned off, and changed and headed to the ‘openers stage’ where bands that weren’t hugely popular but had record deals, performed. We watched a band called ‘Opeth’, a very heavy progressive metal band. They had talent but I couldn’t feel anything through there voices, just growls of false anger, ‘Break Dancing Justin’ was different.
3pm came sooner than I thought; Grape and I set up the amplifiers, and made sure all the microphones sounded perfect. Casio, Zombie, Ms. Mark. and Dingo, where in the back of the stage getting down their last beers before the show and tuning up their guitars. Casio’s bruise was almost gone but he wore a black bandana to cover the gash. Zombie wore some opened toed sandal’s his favorite.
“Hey, D, you want a cigarette?” Casio asked.
“Yeah, Thanks!” I said and took one and lighted it.
Casio grinned, “We make on hell of a weird team don’t we guys?” he asked.
Grape laughed, and adjusted his black button down shirt, “You think I will make an intimidating body guard in all black and purple hair?” Grape asked.
“Yeah you do Grape!” Dingo Said, he pulled his read hair back into a ponytail, grabbed his worn black drumsticks, and put his arm around Grape.
“We make the best team there is, a group of friends that can never be separated, you guys mean everything to me.” Dingo said.
“What do you say we go kick some ass onstage, not off Casio?” Ms. Mark asked and stood next to Dingo.
“Okay, okay, I wont punch anyone; I will be a good boy.” Casio laughed and put his arm around me and we walked over to Zombie.
“All hands in the middle! We are EVVIILLL!” Casio yelled, as Dingo, Myself, Grape, Zombie, and Ms. Mark screamed EVIL at the top of our lungs!

Dingo took the stage and started off with a powerful hit off his snare drum. Zombie let his fender take control and played like his fingers where on fire, Grape stood near the pit ready to act. The crowd roared and sang along, people crowd surfing in all directions. I laughed as Ms. Mark put his foot on one of the security guards shoulders as he played a strong rhythm.
“What do we need, what do we need in this life!?!” Casio sang. He paused and held the microphone far out to the crowd and soaked in the atmosphere. Zombie was smiling ear to ear as himself and Mark played back to back, getting their opening lick in.
I stood at the back corner of the stage in case Grape needed help, or the amps started acting funny. A crowd surfing teen found the ground in front of the stage and stood up, trying to regain his balance.
“You tore my family apart, Brandon, why could you just be normal?!” The teen yelled at the top of his lungs.
He then pulled out a small handgun and let a round off in Casio’s direction. The sounds were load and piercing. Everyone scattered and started screaming. The teen ran like hell toward the exit. It was so fast I couldn’t react, but I saw it in slow motion, I saw Casio’s eyes widen. And then the bullet shot Casio backwards, one ripping through the eye of Casio’s rose tattoo.
To be continued..