Struck A Chord (standard:horror, 2235 words)
Author: Rene Amador	Added: Jul 07 2003	Views/Reads: 3639/2446	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Musicians....where do they get their inspiration?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

come back shortly.  He walked off the stage and towards Yvonne's table. 


“Is anyone sitting here?” Kevin asked. 

“No.  Would you care to join me?”  Yvonne didn't want to seem too eager
or too drunk.  The gin and tonic was working a number on her. 

“I'm Kevin.  I happened to notice that you liked my playing on stage. 
What's your name?” 

“I'm Yvonne.  Pleased to meet you.” 

“Tell me: do you usually stare at people you like?” 

“What...what do you mean?” 

“I mean when you were staring at me, right into my eyes?” 

“Oh, that.  I didn't even notice doing that.  I'm sorry.” 

“Don't be.” 

“It's just that I've never heard anyone play like that before.  I would
say that it's fantastic but that wouldn't do your playing any justice.” 


“Really?  You're not just saying that to flatter me are you?” 

“No.  I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true.”  Before Yvonne could realize
it she found herself saying, “Are you doing anything after the show 
tonight?  Oh, you're probably busy...” 

“Actually I'm not.  If you'd like we could meet up after I'm done.  Just
make your way backstage into the dressing room.  I'm sure we could 
think of something to do after the show.” 

Kevin returned to the stage and for the rest of the set Yvonne locked
her eyes on him.  She watched his hands and fingers take command of the 
guitar, moving with blinding speed.  She felt each note was playing 
only for her benefit.  Faster and faster his fingers moved.  Near the 
end of the song his hands blurred from the sheer speed.  The crowd was 
ecstatic and applauded.  Each clap echoed off the wall and filled the 
room sounding as if there were twice as many people present.  Kevin 
stopped and bowed to the audience and glanced at Yvonne as a reminder 
of their plans.  She waited until the applause died down and then 
discretely made her way backstage. 

Kevin was in the dressing room getting ready to leave soon.  Yvonne
walked into the room and straddled a chair near the door.  Kevin placed 
his guitar into the case, closed the lid and clasped it shut.  Yvonne 
began to speak. 

“So, how long have you been playing the guitar?” 

“Not too long; only a couple of years.  You should have seen me when I
started.  I couldn't play anything.  It was a lot of hard work, but it 
really was a labor of love.  You'd be surprised how disciplined you can 
be when you really want something.” 

“Things come naturally for some people, I guess.” 

“Well, I wouldn't exactly call it ‘natural,' but I guess when compared
to others I was a quick learner.” 

“Can I take a look at the guitar?  Please?” 

“Sure, but only if you're careful.” 

“I will be.” 

Kevin opened the case and Yvonne stared at the guitar in awe.  She
reached out to touch it but just inches away she flinched.  She wasn't 
sure why.  Her fingers ran along the neck and brushed up against each 
string.  At the top of the neck she fiddled with the tuning keys 
playfully. 

“It's beautiful.  It looks like it's been in your family for years.” 

“Doesn't it though?  You know, going back to what you said before, there
are other things that come naturally...” 

“Really?  And what could that be?”  Yvonne, knowing what was coming,
took in a short breath in excitement. 

“Well, there is this one thing that I had in mind...” Kevin knelt beside
Yvonne and put his hand on her cheek.  He edged closer and pressed his 
lips lightly at first, but then began to press harder, more 
passionately.  Yvonne took in as much as she could without losing her 
breath.  She thought it lasted for hours.  When he pulled away she 
surfaced and gasped for air. 

“Where do you live?” Yvonne asked. 

“Just a few blocks away.” 

“Good.  Let's go.” 

Kevin and Yvonne walked back to his apartment.  The whole time, which
was only fifteen minutes, they couldn't keep their hands off of each 
other, like a young high school couple just discovering each other's 
bodies, curious, exploring.  When they arrived at Kevin's apartment 
their clothes were half off as they walked through the door.  Yvonne 
made the first move and pushed Kevin against the wall and dug into him, 
her hips thrusting in rhythm with the beat inside her head, the music 
she desperately wanted to make.  At least she could forget for a while. 
Kevin heard the same beat and took her into the bedroom. 

Afterwards, they sat in bed.  The sheets were pulled back and barely
covered them.  It was of no matter; the weather had been unseasonably 
warm.  Yvonne laid on her side with her head propped up by a pillow and 
faced Kevin.  “Would you like me to play something for you?” Kevin 
asked. 

“I'd love that.” 

Kevin leaned over and picked up the guitar case resting against the
night table.  He opened the case on his lap and took out the guitar.  
He cracked his knuckles and set his fingers on the neck.  For just a 
moment he hesitated and flashed a smile to Yvonne.  Then he began to 
pluck the strings, sounding a sweet and slow ballad.  Yvonne was on the 
verge of moaning from the music.  She was charmed.  Each note brought 
back some long forgotten memory, lost somewhere along memory lane.  She 
looked at the guitar as Kevin played with effortless skill. 

The tuning keys were shining silver and captured what little light there
was in the room.  The neck and body were constructed from mahogany and 
the ancient varnish darkened its already tan surface.  Along the neck 
the placement bars rested, almost floated, and gleamed.  Each of the 
six strings was fine as hair and finely tuned, attached and wrapped 
around each tuning key tightly.  Around the hole in the body there was 
an intricate pattern of two snakes intertwined with each other until 
their fanged mouths met and faced off.  For some reason this made 
Yvonne feel uneasy. 

Kevin played on and on and Yvonne's uneasiness grew and grew.  Something
was definitely wrong with the whole scene.  Suddenly she had the 
uncontrollable urge to leave, to just get up and go without looking 
back.  Fear overcame her and perched on her shoulder, advising her to 
leave before it was too late.  She began to fidget, rustling the sheets 
on her skin and made a light scraping sound. 

“What's the matter Yvonne?  Don't you like how I play the guitar?” 

“No, it's not that.  It's, uh, just that I, eh, have to get up early in
the morning.  You know how it goes?  For work, that's all.  I didn't 
realize how late it was so I better be going soon.” 

“Won't you stay, Yvonne?  I wanted to play this song for you.  Just for
you.” 

Kevin mouth crept from a smile into a devilish smirk.  Yvonne was
stunned with fright and began to fumble for her clothes that she cast 
aside and her belongings on the night table.  She was failing in a vain 
attempt to hide her fear.  Suddenly, she didn't know if it was her 
imagination, the guitar began to change shape.  The neck grew longer 
and thinner, waving around in the air back and forth.  The strings 
began to unravel from the neck and stretched out towards her cheek.  
One string brushed against her cheek quickly and slashed her.  The cut 
was shallow.  Blood trickled down her cheek.  She wanted to wipe her 
face but Yvonne found she couldn't move.  Then all four strings lashed 
out and wrapped around her neck. 

Yvonne tried to scream out but the strings held so tight she couldn't
gather enough air.  Clawing at the strings was no help either.  She 
tried so desperately to free herself that she tore off the nail of her 
third finger.  The blood trailed down her hand.  One branch continued 
to run down her arm while another slid down a guitar string.  A large 
bead of blood gathered at the end of the string where it was attached 
to the body.  Yvonne's vision began to blur.  She remembered that she 
carried mace in her purse.  She tried to reach for it sitting on the 
side table but it was just out of reach.  Each breath became harder and 
harder to grasp until she couldn't breathe at all.  Her head rolled 
back and her arms fell limp against her sides.  One last breath escaped 
her as she fell back onto the bed.  The strings held on. 

Kevin watched the whole thing happen on his bed until the strings let
go.  Immediately they returned to the guitar and assumed their original 
places.  Yvonne lay naked on the bed, one arm resting on her side while 
the other on her stomach.  Her eyes were opened and glassed-over.  Her 
hair was mussed and covered part of her face.  Four crimson rings 
wrapped around her neck. 

The guitar was fed and Kevin could play for one more month.  It was the
best guitar he ever bought.  To think that he bought it from a pawnshop 
of all places.  The old man, who tapped his fingernails as he smoked 
his pipe, suggested it to him.  He bought it for a song. 


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