Read Online Ghosts in the Attic by Mark Allan Gunnells - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark Allan Gunnells
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early ’99. How disappointing that the world did not end in chaos and technological revolt as had been predicted. But we soldier on, into this new millennium that looks to my eyes very much the same as the last. Sure, we have CDs instead of vinyl, DVD instead of VHS, TiVo instead of just picking one fucking show to watch, but nothing really ever changes, my friends. The new generation learns nothing from the one that proceeds it, the same tired mistakes being made decade after decade, the same weak protests being raised, the same pointless compromise that benefits neither side. And through it all, one other thing never changes—the Revolution of Sound.”
Leslie screamed ‘til her throat burned, a wordless cry of affirmation and understanding, her voice lost in the cries of all those around her.
“I see a lot of familiar faces out there,” Dante said. “A lot of long time fans who’ve remained faithful to the music all these years. I’m grateful for your loyalty, my friends. But I wonder, are there any new fans out there, any young people who’ve happened across our music and found in it a core of truth that transcends age?”
Leslie and Joanne yelled until they thought their lungs were going to collapse, their cries so shrill and high-pitched they’d have put Mariah to shame. The entire arena seemed to turn and look at them, and Leslie suddenly felt self-consciousness grip her, and she shook more hair into her face to hide her from the scrutiny.
“Ahhh,” Dante exhaled. “I see we have a couple of ripe young lovelies out there. Why don’t you come down to the front so I can have a better look?”
Leslie and Joanne exchanged a glance, unsure if he was serious. Those nearby encouraged them to go, taking their arms and pulling them toward the aisle. Leslie was dazed, couldn’t quite believe she and her friend had attracted the attention of Dante Reed, a veritable legend of rock’n’roll. On numb legs, moving with the exaggerated slowness of a dream, Leslie glided down the aisle toward the stage, Joanne close behind her. Perhaps it was the influence of her skirt, but Leslie felt she was on her way to take communion.
She and Joanne went all the way to the very foot of the stage, staring up into Dante’s mysterious green eyes. He seemed larger than life, towering above them, smiling down at them. “Such beautiful young creatures,” he said. “Every tour less and less young people attend our shows, but we need you. It is your youth that keeps the music fresh, that keeps it from going stale. You inspire us, you keep us going. Young people like you keep us young. On behalf of the entire band, and all those faithful who listen to our music, I thank you. Thank you, girls, for all you’ve given and all you will give.”
His voice was hypnotic, and Leslie felt herself swoon. A brilliant bolt of white-hot agony shot through her lower body, and she thought dully that perhaps she’d just had her first orgasm. She was aware in her peripheral vision that the crowd was closing in on her and Joanne, people leaving their seats and gathering around the two girls, but she was too enthralled by Dante Reed to give it much consideration.
The distinctive bass beat of “Sacrificial Lamb” started up, and Dante began singing, staring down at Leslie and Joanne as if serenading them.
“ In the heat of the fire ,” he crooned, “ the passion of desire …”
The crowd encroached further, and Leslie felt herself being shoved up against the stage, but she hardly noticed. She couldn’t take her eyes off Dante Reed, and all she heard was his voice.
“… the soul is consumed by the beast, as gluttons prepare for the feast…. ”
Leslie sensed Joanne being pulled into the crowd behind her, and she thought she heard her friend cry out, but Leslie found it hard to concentrate on anything but the man standing on the stage above her.
“… the life you forfeit in my name is the sustenance that I crave …”
Leslie felt
Leslie screamed ‘til her throat burned, a wordless cry of affirmation and understanding, her voice lost in the cries of all those around her.
“I see a lot of familiar faces out there,” Dante said. “A lot of long time fans who’ve remained faithful to the music all these years. I’m grateful for your loyalty, my friends. But I wonder, are there any new fans out there, any young people who’ve happened across our music and found in it a core of truth that transcends age?”
Leslie and Joanne yelled until they thought their lungs were going to collapse, their cries so shrill and high-pitched they’d have put Mariah to shame. The entire arena seemed to turn and look at them, and Leslie suddenly felt self-consciousness grip her, and she shook more hair into her face to hide her from the scrutiny.
“Ahhh,” Dante exhaled. “I see we have a couple of ripe young lovelies out there. Why don’t you come down to the front so I can have a better look?”
Leslie and Joanne exchanged a glance, unsure if he was serious. Those nearby encouraged them to go, taking their arms and pulling them toward the aisle. Leslie was dazed, couldn’t quite believe she and her friend had attracted the attention of Dante Reed, a veritable legend of rock’n’roll. On numb legs, moving with the exaggerated slowness of a dream, Leslie glided down the aisle toward the stage, Joanne close behind her. Perhaps it was the influence of her skirt, but Leslie felt she was on her way to take communion.
She and Joanne went all the way to the very foot of the stage, staring up into Dante’s mysterious green eyes. He seemed larger than life, towering above them, smiling down at them. “Such beautiful young creatures,” he said. “Every tour less and less young people attend our shows, but we need you. It is your youth that keeps the music fresh, that keeps it from going stale. You inspire us, you keep us going. Young people like you keep us young. On behalf of the entire band, and all those faithful who listen to our music, I thank you. Thank you, girls, for all you’ve given and all you will give.”
His voice was hypnotic, and Leslie felt herself swoon. A brilliant bolt of white-hot agony shot through her lower body, and she thought dully that perhaps she’d just had her first orgasm. She was aware in her peripheral vision that the crowd was closing in on her and Joanne, people leaving their seats and gathering around the two girls, but she was too enthralled by Dante Reed to give it much consideration.
The distinctive bass beat of “Sacrificial Lamb” started up, and Dante began singing, staring down at Leslie and Joanne as if serenading them.
“ In the heat of the fire ,” he crooned, “ the passion of desire …”
The crowd encroached further, and Leslie felt herself being shoved up against the stage, but she hardly noticed. She couldn’t take her eyes off Dante Reed, and all she heard was his voice.
“… the soul is consumed by the beast, as gluttons prepare for the feast…. ”
Leslie sensed Joanne being pulled into the crowd behind her, and she thought she heard her friend cry out, but Leslie found it hard to concentrate on anything but the man standing on the stage above her.
“… the life you forfeit in my name is the sustenance that I crave …”
Leslie felt
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