Epilogue



A crowd of all ages, all shapes and sizes, colors and hues, roared to the point where they could deafen until a spotlight hit a single figure on the stage, sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar in his lap. Everything else was black, pitch black, so the only thing able to seen was the man and his guitar. He glanced up, his chocolate, aged eyes sharing a smile that matched his lips. Looking over what he could see of the crowd through the spotlight, his fingers began to move over the strings, sending vibrations caught by a microphone and amplified so the entire crowd could hear. As he continued to play, two spotlights appeared behind him, showing his two brothers, one on bass guitar, and the other on the drums.

He glanced down at his hands as he switched chords, his fingers seeming like a part of the instrument, which caused the instrument to seem like it was a part of him, instead of shaped wood and strings. That was his instrument now, his drums passed on to his slightly older brother and the piano�the piano was passed on to his wife of three days. As she began to play, a small spotlight hit her, pushed into a corner in the back of the stage.

The music that they created fell over the sold out arena, deafening in its beauty. The smile never left his face as he continued to send out waves of emotion through his fingers in the form of notes. His lips moved closer to the microphone in front of him, his eyes closing softly, and he powerfully began to sing. He kept his eyes closed as his notes rang out, clear and strong, and moving to the point of tears. His words told the tale of an innocent but stricken being, torn between the life he had to fake and the life he had to live, broken in two and thrown around like a piece of meat but all he could do was smile about it and pretend things were okay behind his innocent eyes.

But his eyes weren't innocent any longer, and the song meant almost nothing to him. The little boy in the song was gone, forgotten, replaced by a man who's seen things the little boy should never know. The little boy didn't know of anything in life, didn't know of war, of death and carnage, of what true love or true hate really came from. As he plunged deeper and deeper into his song, however, the man disappeared and the little boy shone through, and they both liked it that way.


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