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The two exited the room, Jim following Murphy down a small group of stairs into what seemed to be a garage converted into a rehearsal space. The large room was covered in carpets and egg crates, to help produce a better sound in the room. There was a nice 6-piece drum set and a wall of amplifiers. Next to them, the wall was covered in bass guitars, electric and acoustic guitars. The amount of equipment was crazy to Jim, showing him these bad boys of rock were serious about their music careers.
"Wow," Jim said.
"Yeah, you like what you see?" Murphy responded. "We take ourselves seriously in this band. Sure, we party after the shows and get crazy during them, but other than that, we practice hard. Everyone is expected to give 100 percent of them selves into this band, and if you can't, than it's out the door for you."
Jim nodded his head, agreeing with Murphy. This was something he had a problem with in all his other bands. People not taking themselves seriously, getting drunk before shows, showing up late to rehearsals or not showing up at all for that matter. Jim was ready to be in a band that took themselves seriously and wanted to make it in the music world. His eyes grew wide with excitement; this was his moment to shine.
"Ok, brother, you ready to work? Time for your audition to begin," Murphy said. "We're going to start by warming up with a few scales and then we'll try, oh, I don't know, Trixie Vixen.' Do you know that one?"
"Sure do. That sounds cool with me," Jim said as he was opening his guitar case. "Trixie Vixen" was the closing song on Grave Peril's demo, and the hardest to play, to boot. It was one Jim had practiced over and over again once receiving Murphy's call about the audition. He somehow knew this song would come up and he wanted to be ready for it.
"You ok?" asked Murphy.
"Yeah, I'm just a little nervous. I never thought I would get the chance to audition for Grave Peril. I mean, you guys are legendary here." Jim had his guitar out now and was tuning it down a whole step. His hands were clammy so he rubbed them against his jeans as he thought to himself, "Just six months ago, I was watching these guys on stage, wishing I could play with them. Now, I'm just one step away." Storm Front had broken up two months earlier, before the Grave Peril show, and Jim had thought his music career was over. It was back to scrubbing toilets with no sign moving up.
Jim remembered the Grave Peril show as if it had happened yesterday. Grave Peril was on stage, rocking out the audience with their high flying guitar riffs and melodic breakdowns. The crowd loved it and so did Jim. He was front row-center for the performance, head-banging to every beat of the drums. He and Corgan had both gone to the show, along with another former member of Storm Front, bassist Jay Perkins. Jay had grown up with Corgan and Jim but seemed to have disappeared from their radar shortly after Storm Front's demise. It was a hard breakup for all the band members but one that needed to happen if Jim ever wanted to go further.
Strom Front, consisting of five members, Jim playing guitar, Jay on bass and Corgan on drums, played a mixture of hard rock, blues and metal, offering a different sound experience to each song. Jay had dreamed of Jim, Corgan and himself leaving the other two members to start their own band, a decision Jim was unsure of. If this whole Grave Peril thing didn't work out than he and Corgan could start that band Jay wanted. Only, they had no idea where to find Jay.
On the last night they had both seen Jay, he had mentioned hanging around one of the members of Grave Peril, though he never mentioned which one. Jim and Corgan had both though Jay had moved past the trio of friends into a new batch. The calls offering to hangout had ended after that night.
"Hey, Murph, have you ever met Jay Perkins?" Jim asked while Murphy was tuning his own guitar. He looked up quickly at Jim with an anxious look in his eyes.
"Who?" Murphy quickly answered back.
"Jay Perkins. He's a friend of mine. We used to play in Storm Front together. I haven't seen him in a long time. He once said something about hanging out with a member of Grave Peril, I didn't know if you might have met him or something."
"No. That name doesn't ring a bell," Murphy said, quickly looking back down at his guitar. "Are you about ready to begin?"
"Yeah, I'm ready. Trixie Vixen,' right?
"That's right. Here we go. 1234" Murphy said, counting off the two as they began to play.
An earsplitting scream came from outside the rehearsal space. The sound was full of fright chocked with blood. It wasn't a natural scream or one you would hear if you jumped out at you sister from behind a door. This scream was pain. It was suffering. It sounded like death.
To be continued...
Ryan Stroud is a military trained journalist who has served in Iraq with the 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, US Army. Prior to his military experiences, Stroud grew up playing, coaching, and refereeing soccer. Also, Stroud focused many years of his life playing, touring, and recording/producing local music acts. He has a wonderful wife of 4 years, a 2 year old son and a newborn daughter.
Stroud's biggest writing influences are Jim Butcher, Chuck Palahniuk, Edward Lee, Jack Ketchum, Christopher Moore and Ben Fox.
He currently resides in Huntsville, Al, with the 59th Ordnance Brigade at Redstone Arsenal.
Stroud would also like to take a moment to thank his friends who are currently in battle over in Iraq. God bless all of you.
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