Bloodshow

Thriller Stories | Oct 13, 2012 | 20 min read
16 Votes, average: 3 out of 5
The crowd was primed and ready in the arena that night as they patiently watched the road crew prep the stage for the evenings headlining act. Haarp played on the pa at a medium volume as the strong stench of marijuana chocked the arena. Anticipation lurked amongst the excited crowd on the floor, mainly due to the large circular platform dangling high above their heads. It looked as if it was a children's size pool floating in midair although it was held up by chains. There were words written on the side but could not be made out.
Suddenly the doomy audio of Haarp on the pa lowers and a small roar emits from the crowd, only to be ambushed by Agorapocalypse Now by Agoraphobic Nosebleed playing extremely loud over the pa; so loud it sounds distorted.
Just as the audio violence hits, a large white banner falls behind the drum kit with vertical blood red streaks and a massive red band logo, and is followed by white banners quickly thrown over the bands amps also displaying the same blood red streaks and band logo.
A quick and frenzied loud roar erupts from the crowd as hundreds of fists and goat signs reach towards the arena ceiling. The crowd begins to sway back and forth, pushing towards the security railing as the fog machine fills the stage.
As the intense grind plays on the pa the large circular platform begins lowering towards the anxious crowd on the floor. A sea of hands rises up as rabid fans begin to crowd surf. The volume level of the crowd increases. A terrified girl holds tight onto her boyfriend covering her face in fear and another is pulled from the manic mob by security over the railing.
Written on the pool like object is "No turning back, No fucking way out" in blood red on a white background. The crowd erupts even louder now! The people in the seats are standing up watching the out of control floor of metalheads.
Without warning the bottom of the circular platform opens up sending out a flood of dark fake red blood onto the crowd. A mix of yells and raised fists, along with shocked covered mouths came from the people in the seats. Mayhem sets in as Katherine Kat's vokills rape the pa and bloody, sweaty bodies slither across each other in adoring metallic bliss.
The grind attack quickly ends on the pa, but then the stage lights go out and only the stage lights. The remainder of the arena stayed brightly lit. The usual roar when the lights go out a concert ensues. There seemed to be a confused like chatter from the crowd as some thought they forgot to turn out all the lights, little did they know it was all part of the show.
A video projection begins to play on the white backdrop. It shows a young dark haired girl lying face down on what seems to be a garage floor. As she raises herself up blood flows from her long black hair. A horrifying and eerie instrumental constructed of violins slowly plays on the pa. Unable to see her face she begins walking in slow motion towards a door. Her slow moving footsteps pound the pa with a heavy thud. When she begins to open the door her left hand slowly creeps up the side of the wall making its way to a light switch. The crowd begins to roar furiously. The eerie music ends as the bloody girl turns her head revealing one eye, and then flips the light switch off. A loud pop is heard over the pa as the house lights quickly go out.
The bloody crowd is beyond electric.
Immediately the terrifying sound of screeching violins blisters the pa., the effect of rumbling thunder adds to the horror show as red strobe lights electrify the stage.
Then from out of nowhere she appeared, under a bright white spotlight.
Blood drenched, she stands with a creepy, crooked stance, her head tilted to the side; blood drips from her long black hair onto the stage. The dominant vokillist holds the mic stand with one hand as the other hand swings to her side holding a large butcher knife. From the shadows the other members take their places on the stage.
Streaks of blood flow down her leg from her white shorts as she stares hauntingly out into the crowd. The violin massacre continues on the pa as she begins to lick the large butcher knife. The blood queen had arrived and was ready to murder her blood soaked children of the night with metallic malice.
A piercing 1 2 3 4 hi-hat count off comes over the pa and the bloody heavy metal onslaught begins.
This is, Angel Bloody Angel!

I

Keri White was backstage that evening as the opening band took the stage. Up to this point she had interviewed a handful of bands and was very excited to land a job working as a writer for Metal Killer, the midwests premier metal music webzine. So far Keri's journalistic skills have granted her interviews with Goatwhore, Danzig and Slayer to name a few, and have earned her place as queen of the mountain in the world of metal journalism. This particular interview was different though. This was the big one as they say. Not for the shocking, twisted stage show that ABA presents full of blood, gore and obnoxiously loud heavy guitars, and not for the screeching vokills (ala' Katherine Kat), of lead singer Lacy "loud" Larson, but it is her portrayal or if you will her glorifying of one of the most notorious murderers in the history of Indiana, Angel Larson, the one responsible for the "Bludenhale Massacre of 1974", a horrendous and gruesome murder that took place in the small town of Bludenhale, Indiana back in 1974.
Angel Bloody Angel is adored by teenage metal sickos and hated by many, mainly the parents of the sickos, but what the hell do the parents know, right? The kids wanted their blood and metal, and ABA delivered hardcore.
II
The muffled sound of the roaring crowd crept through the concrete walls in the room where Keri waited patiently for her interview. A low end rumbling from the stage pa shook the backstage floor. A hard rain from a thundershower could be heard hitting the top of the arena.
The waiting was the hardest part for Keri. Her chosen profession was one that left you at the mercy of the band. It was just part of it; you waited; waited for showers, catering, meet and greets, soundchecks etc. But she knew it would be worth it. Lacy Larson had taken the metal world by storm with her chilling onstage presence and bloody, downright scary as hell high pitched screaming vocals; Keri was ready to dig deep into the mind of the blood queen, but sometimes what you dig up isn't what you thought it was….some things should stay buried.
III
ABA tour manager Darrell Rock had been busy all day getting things together for the evenings show. He literally had not sat down since the tour bus parked itself behind the arena at 11 a.m. It was a stressful job being a tour manager, especially for a band like ABA. When you have to direct and manage an entire road crew, set up catering, schedule a sound check, and not to mention keep track of 4 semi trailer's one which is used just for fake blood alone, you have to keep you're shit together. This is where Darrell excelled; keeping cool under pressure; don't blow your lid, keep your shit together, although lately it was becoming increasingly harder for Darrell to do just that. The kid from a small town in Indiana with nails in her throat and fire in her eyes had turned eerily similar to the monster she portrays onstage, and it was driving Darrell to the edge….more than she knew.
IV
"Hey Murphy it's me Darrell." Juggling a cell phone conversation in one hand and a large hot lemon tea in the other, Darrell quickly walks down the hall backstage to Keri's room.
"Yeah the opening act just went on and Lacy has that interview in a few with that gal from from Metal Killer, uh what's her name, uh, White, Keri White…..oh the turnout so far has been great tonight, kids are flippin nuts," he laughs, but is interrupted,
"Uh ya know Murphy I haven't seen the total for tonight's ticket sales, I've been busy with all this other crap," he is rudely interrupted again,
"T-shirt sales?" A huge sense of relief comes over Darrell as he sees the door to Keri's room getting closer. He walks faster trying not to spill the hot tea. "Hey as soon as I get t-shirt sales I'll text you," he does his best I don't want to talk to you anymore fake static sound as he reaches Keri's room. "Sorry Murph the reception sucks with these concrete wall's, gotta go." He lets out a sigh of relief while shaking his head with slight disgust followed by a "Shmuck." Turning his head side to side as if trying to relax, he opens the door to Keri's room. And he didn't spill the tea.

V
Extending his hand towards Keri he welcomes her kindly. "Hi, you must be Keri, we've heard a lot about you,"
"Oh no, did the guys at Metal Killer run their mouth about me again?" Keri jokes. "Just hope they left out the serial killer part and the old person fetish thingy." Darrell chuckles, "You have a sense of humor, I like that, you're gonna need it."
He notices the vibrant artwork along Keri's arm. "Whoa, that's a nice looking sleeve." "Thanks, just had the dragon and hearts done last week," she says. "Yeah not too shabby yourself there brother," She gently turns Darrells arm viewing his black and white art scars.
"I apologize for the delay. Lacy is in the shower now, she'll be ready here shortly," "That's ok, I'm used to it," Keri smiles.
After about ten minutes, a tall woman with long black hair wearing sunglasses and a dark grey robe enters the room. With her was a large black security guard; she made it clear to everyone on the tour that she would have security with her at all times; it was a rock star thing. Darrell tried to hide his embarrassment as he leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, his hand half covered his face like a scared child watching a horror movie. Her hair still wet from her shower, dripped steadily onto the grey carpeted floor. Keri looked on but kept from speaking just yet, she wasn't to thrown back by the stars behavior, but this was the highest level of rock star narcissism she had yet encountered. The blood queen quietly sat down onto a blue metal folding chair, but oddly crossed her legs in a lady like gesture as she stroked her hair over her shoulder. The stair down began.
VI
Lacy tilted her head slightly to the right, her hands were now crossed on her knee. Her attitude and over all body language roars I'm so fucking bored get me the fuck out of here, I have better things to do. The awkward silence was almost unbearable for Darrell, he nervously nodded to the security guard in a what's up kinda way, the security guard returned the gesture with a slow nod. After at least fifteen seconds of this weird silent staring game between the two females, Keri was only able to get in the sound of her breath before speaking, as she was ambushed by a quick "no,no,no" from the jaded one sitting across from her, and a completely uncalled for finger waving, the kind of gesture that a mother does to discipline their four year old child. Lacy motions to Darrell with her hand and in a light voice, "My cigarettes." Bitch couldn't even say please. Like a grumpy old husband obeying his nagging wife Darrell walks over to Lacy handing her a pack of smokes. Raising a cancer stick to her puffy ruby red lips she realizes she needs a light. Again she rudely motions to Darrell. The imaginary brick wall between her and Darrell must have kept her from seeing the lighter being handed to her. She just sat there with her cig dangling from her mouth waiting for a light. Humiliated, the angry tour manager reluctantly lights her cigarette.
A long plume of smoke exits from her mouth while Keri sits with a wide eyed shocked half grin across from her. Waiting, staring, hearts racing, feet tapping, more staring, more I don't want to be here body language, until finally…..
VII
"So, you must be Keri," the queen speaks slowly. "That would be correct Ms…" Keri cautiously looks at Darrell. "Please, call me Lacy," the queen tells her. Keri knew she was in for a rocky ride and the interview she was hoping for was becoming less of a reality. Being in this type of work she had come across these types before, but never this extreme. The only thought in her mind was either get in and get out, or go in for the kill. She contemplated for a moment and went with the latter….it's killing time.
VIII
"So how did you hear of Noctem? Sounds like they're destroying it right now, enthusiastic front man to, wouldn't you say." If you're gonna knock down an egotistical rock star a few notches, go for the jugular and ask them what they think of the opening bands lead singer. Keri knew what she was doing. Lacy in her sunglasses did a slight chuckle, "Who? Uh, yeah," she pauses shaking her head in a confused manner, and then sarcastically "He's great." Continuing the interview Keri asks how ABA drummer was doing. "How is Steve holding up, that hand injury had to have been rough on him?" With a pissy tone and a painfully forced smile Lacy responds, "He's fine." Like a kindergarten teacher wowing over a scribbled piece of artwork from a five year old, Keri asks the queen, "And what about you, how are you holding up with this extensive tour schedule, you must be exhausted." This was followed by a quick tap on the Lacy's knee. Not even the enormous butcher knife prop Lacy used on stage could cut through the tension filled room. Her mouth clenched shut with anger and out came a partly muted and obviously annoyed "I'm peachy." Darrell stood against the wall facing Lacy; one wide eye peeked through his fingers as he looked on in horror. The row of sweat beads forming across his forehead was code to Keri that she should back off. And she did. She liked and respected Darrell; she could sense he was a good person when they met.

VIIII
"OK, enough small talk. Let's get down to it." Keri moves her sandy blonde hair away from her face as she presses record on a small tape recorder.
Keri: "The new album "Fetish" has been well received by the metal underground, and the new single "Sexy Knife Fetish" has been in regular rotation on Liquid Metal for the past three weeks; were you prepared for that kind of response?
Lacy: "Well, being that our last album "Bloody Fingers" made the little kiddies ears bleed with delight, I wasn't surprised that "Fetish" would do the same. Of course you're always somewhat nervous to a degree when you release a new album, but I knew the kids would eat it up, blood and all."
Keri: "There are some interesting song titles on this one; Dogfucked, Bone Bitch, Filth Freak etc. yet you do a cover of Kiss's Do You Love Me, done of course with your high pitched distorted screams your fans can't get enough of, which leads me to the track "She's a screamer" which is basically a vocal solo featuring an onslaught of different pitched piercing screams lasting for a minute and 34 seconds, that's pretty brutal and it's something that's never been done before."
Lacy: Yeah there was a big ego brawl about the cover song thing; management suggested Be my lover by Alice Cooper, but I thought Do you love me was more fitting and I obviously won. The screaming thing was my idea and was done solely just to piss off your neighbors at 2 in the morning."
Keri: "ABA is no stranger to controversy when it comes to shocking the general public with its purposely tasteless and very bloody album covers; your latest offering depicts you on your knees, face down and tongue out towards what looks like a dog bowl overflowing with blood; the album title "Fetish" is carved into the bowl; you are also bound by a barbwire leash around your neck by a blonde vixen wearing an executioners masks."
Lacy: "It is what it is darling."
Kari: "Some fans believe the cover is subliminal in the sense that the one holding the leash represents Heather Smith; the one murdered by Angel Larson in 1974.
Lacy: It could be possibly, I'll leave that up to the fans to decide.
Kari: Tell me about the connection between the band Angel Bloody Angel and the Bludenhale Massacre of 1974.
Lacy: Well growing up in Bludenhale, Indiana sucked first of all. There was absolutely nothing to do and nothing but fucking cornfields. The only thing that town is known for is the Bludenhale Massacre of 1974 and of course the infamous Angel Larson . I became fascinated with the legend when I was a little girl, mainly because everyone was so afraid to even speak about it. I guess it's the punk in me, I don't know. I never really liked people telling me what to think or believe, even in the case of the Bludenhale Massacre. I've always been attracted to the darker things in life anyway, hell my first band was an all-girl Danzig tribute band called Devils Plaything, we all wore devil locks just like Glen; it was pretty gnarly. Eventually I took a liking to heavier forms of music, death metal, grind; bands like Anal Cunt, Exit 13, but I still liked Danzig and of course the mighty Pantera. I moved from Bludenhale two years after I graduated. I did a whole thing on the Bludenhale Massacre and Angel Larson for my senior project; I never heard the end of it, so I left. I could just imagine how Angel felt growing up in that shithole. When I got this band together I was like fuck it, I'm going all the way with this, and if people are disgusted by it, fuck'em!
Kari: When you talk about how Angel Larson must have felt growing up in Bludenhale, do you feel as though you have a connection with Angel?
Lacy: Yeah I do, a lot actually. I feel like we were both outcasts in that shithole. She was thrown to the wolves after the murder, that town ripped her apart.
Kari: Wait, you do realize that she brutally murdered three people, one being her best friend Heather Smith. Are you saying she was innocent?
Lacy sits uneasily in her chair, she becomes nervous.
Lacy: I'm not saying she is innocent, I'm just saying that fucking town is ruthless, nothing but small minded bullshit.
Kari begins to push the issue more and more not letting up.
Kari: So you feel sorry for Angel?
Lacy: Uh I never said that, don't put words in my mouth; what are you trying to get at with this?
Lacy is becoming more irritated, she starts to shake her leg and smoke quickly. It's as if she is a human volcano ready to burst.
Kari: You know that right now there protestors outside that wanna rip you apart, they're appalled that you idolize a murderer, how do you feel about that Lacy?
Lacy throws her arms up in frustration. "Darrell what the fuck is this?"
Kari: Some say that your obsession with Angel Larson overrides the bands integrity; I mean you actually kinda look like her, long black hair, tall, hell you even use her last name.
"Are we done here?" The angry vocalist shouts her rage at Kari, her blue black hair puffs from her face from her breath.
Darrell stands frozen with shock and fear of what is to follow.
Kari: Lacy?-she leans forward saying her name like she was a high school counselor. Do you think you are Angel Larson?
X
The room is filled with an incredibly intense feeling. There is a moment of absolute silence after the question was asked except for the sound of thunder rumbling outside the arena.
Lacy sits with an "ok ya got me" sort of smile for a few seconds. She sits up with her elbow on her knee, the palm of her hand sunken in her chin, her fingers tapping at her teeth. She shakes her head still smiling and points her finger at Kari.
"You like to ask a lot of questions don't you, well I got a question for you."
Sitting back in her chair, Lacy resumes her slouched position, only her robe has opened up revealing her black patch in the middle along with cuts and scars on her inner thighs. A small trickle of blood inches its way down her thigh. "You ever eat a bloody pussy?"
"Jesus Christ Lacy!" Darrell yells
"I'd prefer the Virgin Mary, oh wait, I can't; lost that when I was fifteen."
"Ok, we're done here." Disgusted, Kari gathers up her things and is ready to leave.
Lacy sits laughing like hysterically like some evil queen in her castle. Kari shakes hands with Darrell as she walks towards the door. "I'm really sorry about this" he explains. "It's ok, live and learn I guess." She turns to Lacy, her robe still open exposing herself. Embarrassed by Lacy's actions, Kari thanks her for her time and wishes her the best in her career. It was a very professional gesture on Kari's part, but not well received by Lacy who responds crudely with, "Whatever bitch"
Kari, Darrell and the bodyguard (his face screams relief that it's over) begin walking to the door, but Kari wants to have the last word. Just before she walks out she turns around facing Lacy, "Oh by the way, Katherine Kat called, said she wants her voice back!" Darrell could have sworn he saw Lacy's eyes turn red as she rushed towards Kari screaming. "You fucking bitch!" The poor bodyguard found himself in between a tangled mess of blonde and black hair, and fingernails as sharp as knives. Darrell quickly grabs Lacy around her waist, picking her up as she continues scratching motions at Kari's face. The bodyguard ushers the journalist out of the room.
Darrell turns to Lacy with fury in his eyes. "What the fuck was that?" He yells at the top of his lungs. The jaded vocalist begins laughing hysterically again. "Oh relax hot shot; I'm just having a little fun." A small spray of saliva exits Darrells mouth when he yells. His cheeks become a rosy red. ‘You-are-fucking-crazy! You have some godamn nerve, you know that!"
"All these fucking journalists are the same man." Lacy again sitting in the chair, she lights up another smoke. Darrell begins to rub his forehead trying to calm himself. In a mocking voice she speaks with a wicked tongue. "Oh look it's poor Darrell, can't handle the pressure, wah,wah,wah!" She jokingly wipes tears from her eyes. Suddenly the room was quiet. Lacy sat eyeing Darrell, looking at him suspiciously. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking you should have taken the Goatwhore gig, right? No drama, no bullshit. But you didn't did you. You were going where the big bucks are at, and its right here baby!" She grabs at her crotch and squeezes, and then sits bold legged in her chair, her knees touch. She continues her tirade. He can feel his blood boiling at her statements. "Oh I forgot sweety, the Goatwhore tour didn't offer enough money, not enough to cover poor Ms. Rocks chemotherapy. His heart begins to race, his legs shaky. Lacy stands up and begins clapping her hands mockingly. "Let's hear it for poor little Darrell, suffering out here on the road putting up with all this rock star bullshit, while his bald, near dead wife sits alone at home missing her fucking do-gooder husband!"
The boiling point had been reached. Darrell lunges with extreme hate toward Lacy, his hands take ahold of her neck as he throws her up against the concrete wall. His teeth grit together, while two small lines of spit form on the corners of his mouth. It feels as though his heart is going to burst out of his chest. Lacy begins to hack and spit, gasping for air. "What ya gotta say now you fucking cunt!" She tries to talk, but only choked coughs come out. "What!" Darrell yells. Her hands grab around his; he loosens his grip slightly. Her eyes squint with agony. "Are you gonna fucking kill me Darrell, is that what you're going to do?" She coughs. "You don't have the fucking balls; Do it, I want you to fucking DO IT!" His eyes light up with fire.
Just then a loud banging came from the door. Their eyes were glued to each other. Lacy looked over to the door. A muffled man's voice is heard on the opposite side. "Is everything all right in there?" Darrell finally released his death grip, slowly. "20 minutes till showtime Lacy," The voice calls out. She wipes the drool from her mouth, "Yeah all right." Breathing heavily she tries to compose herself. Darrell exhausted by the hate fest leans against the wall, his hands on his knees with his head down. Still trying to catch her breath, Lacy tells Darrell, "Ya know, that was kind of a turn on. I've never been choked out before." She feels in between her legs. "Look Darrell, I'm wet." She shows him her wet hand.
The crowd can be heard through the concrete walls chanting Angel, over and over again. They were getting restless. Lacy breathes at a somewhat normal rate, and acts as if nothing ever happened. "Well gotta go, my children are calling." You're fucking mental," Darrell tells her. He gestures with his hand at her to just go.
"Can't forget this," She grabs her tea, which has now perfectly cooled and is ready to drink. She takes a sip and smiles at Darrell. Just before she exits the room, Darrell shouts, "Hey Lacy, knock'em dead kid!"

XI

Lacy, she is now blood drenched; (courtesy of her personal assistant) makes her way to the stage, accompanied by two security guards. Looks that Kill by Motley Crue is playing loudly over the pa, too the crowd of anxious fans. She tries to shrug off the fiasco of an interview and the little chocking game with Darrell. The smooth lemon tea warmth coats her throat as she takes a sip.
"Are you about ready Lacy?" The stage manager asks. She snaps at him like an angry dog. "You see this in my hand," she holds up her cup. "When it's empty I'll be ready, got it!" She gulps down the last drink of her tea as Looks that Kill fades out over the pa. The crowd begins to roar. "Now give me my knife." She says. The lights go out.

XII

Slithering bodies lubricated by fake blood slide off one another on the main floor of the arena. It's a sea of human flesh and blood; a violent bloodbath of twenty something's. The aroma of dude sweat and testosterone mixed with girl's baby powder deodorant and pot lurks heavily in the crowd. A young girl flings her drenched blonde hair in a windmill pattern; perspiration fly's above the mob. Beer cup missiles are launched. Fingernails claw at backs and shoulders as rabid sickos climb their way to the top of the human blood pile. Slippery hands push bloody bodies forward creating a mangled mess of feet and hands. A kid up front gets slammed in the head by a large black boot; his face bloodied by the collision, real blood. Strobe lights dance in unison to the pounding double kick drum battery. An exhausted security guard wipes beads of sweat from his forehead, a small break it is from the incoming bodies being thrown over the railing like a bloody beast chewing and spitting out its victims. The arena has become a splatterhouse of blood and metal. HAILS! To the warriors that fear no brutal pit and those who slip and slide shoulder to shoulder with brothers and sisters amongst red gore and vile audio, HAILS!
All this insanity! All this ritualistic controlled mayhem, brought on by the audio violence pumping through the pa and the screams of the one orchestrating the madness with her large bloody butcher knife, tauntingly swinging it at her bloody children as they float atop arms and hands in hopes of getting slashed by the queen. Lacy "loud" Larson stands at center stage; her knife in hand and foot atop a monitor.
XIII
The bloodshow had begun and despite Lacy's near death experience at the hands of Darrell, she was still able to deliver the goods. That was until though by the end of the third song in the blistering set, she had begun to feel a slight nausea coming on. Her body was in the zone of blood and mayhem but she knew something wasn't quite right. She forged on anyway continuing to slash at the oncoming bodies over the guard rail.
Darrell eased his way through the maze of road cases and snake like cables in the backstage area. He leaned steadily on a case watching the show from the side of the stage. For Lacy, the nausea started getting worse, a lot worse. This sudden onset on sickness threw the bloody one into a panic. The slashing became less and less as she took hold of a mic stand, choosing to head bang as she quickly did a panicked recap of her day in her mind, all while brutal guitar leads scorched the pa. "What did I eat today, fuck, think dammit! Half a sandwich, Subway I think, shit! Uh, grapes, some chips?" At the same time Kari catches the eye of Darrell; she was on the opposite side of the stage watching. She gestures a little wave to him, he nods back.
Meanwhile things were unraveling for Lacy as she now stood straight holding on for dear life to the mic stand. No headbanging. The nausea had taken over her body. Vomit water started to form in the back of her throat, her tongue salivated from the acidic belchy flavor. Her stomach felt hot, her legs shaky, but yet her arms and hands felt ice cold. She grips the mic and holds her head down, her forehead meets the cold rigid metal microphone. "What the fuck is happening to me?" She thought. Her mind became a whirlwind of panic and distraught just as her guitar player gives a confused shrug to the drummer.
Darrell continues to look on with curious eyes; Kari as well takes notice of the singer's sluggishness.
Nausea now gives way to a new found terror as constricting, sharp pains attack her insides. She doubles over in a quick motion holding her stomach. Blood soaked strings of black hair cover her face. Horrendous bouts of sharp pain lasting two to three seconds stab at her midriff. By this point she had missed her cue for the chorus of the song. The guitar player looks over to Darrell, who motions to keep playing. Some fans in front have noticed the sudden stage presence of their hero. A few think this might be part of the show.
An amazing sense of relief is felt by Lacy when those three seconds stabs of pain subside, but only for a few seconds, and then right back to the cruel, unrelenting pain. "Am I dying?" she thought. "Am I seriously fucking dying?"
Phase three of Lacys predicament now unfolds as her acid scraped throat begins the slow process of closing. A horrifying tightness squeezes around her neck like a constrictor and a new kind of panic takes over in her mind. Hyperventilating grips her lungs, but there is no air to get out, her throat has closed like a compactor. It feels as though she is being buried alive, with each helpless swoop of breath feeling like a shovel full of dirt being thrown on a half-buried alive body.
Lacy starts to stumble around the stage, walking crookedly like a new born calf trying to walk for the first time. Still hanging on with a death grip to the mic stand, she can see Darrell in the corner of her eye. She slowly turns her head, staring at him; a string of drool hangs at the corner of her mouth. The stage starts spinning; visions of the know standing still crowd, Darrell and the band zip past her eyes in a whirlwind of sickness and pain. A distant voice sounding as if in a well, rings loudly in her ears- "Knock'em Dead Kid" it says over and over. Snapshots of the interview and the fight with Darrell from earlier flash like lightning in her mind, just as a foamy substance snakes its way from her mouth, looking something like a sudsy overflowing washer. More voices echo with the same deep well like tone, distant and eerie- "Can't forget this" and "When it's empty I'll be ready, got it!" "The tea…..motherfuuu- Darrell's face spins in front of her- "Bye, Bye Lacy" His mouth moves in slow motion. The band plays on as Lacy takes one last slow look at her bloody children in front of her and then at Darrell. She begins to fall like a fighter going down after a brutal hit to the face. She suddenly collapses on stage, falling on her knees and then quickly on her side. Her eyes stare blankly at a terrified young girl in the front row. Two roadies quickly run to the stage, kneeling down looking in fear at Lacy. They turn her on her back; her body jerks from convulsions as white foam oozes its way out her mouth onto the stage. A small fountain of blood vomit erupts from her mouth; it splatters at her cheeks leaving thorny lines and specs of red. The shocked and horrified audience looks on in disbelief as they carry their hero off the stage on a stretcher; her arms dangle lifelessly to the sides.
XIIII

A doctor later that night unofficially determined the cause of death was death by poisoning. The autopsy weeks later would confirm this deadly diagnosis of lethal poisoning. And the suicidal lyrics (written by Lacy, safely tucked in an envelope titled ‘lyric ideas' inside her black back pack) found by detectives in her dressing room would be the final piece of the puzzle, putting it all in perspective. Although on Lacy's dressing room table, cluttered with eye makeup, blue fingernail polish and black lipstick, detectives found a white envelope reading ‘lyric ideas' out in the open, like it was screaming at them to be seen and opened. Darrell didn't want them to miss it.

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Joe Zito Oct 23, 2012

thanks everyone....you can read more of my short stories at http://www.writerscafe.org/joezito74

Priyanka Oct 15, 2012

nice story..

Priya Oct 15, 2012

Your way of writing is really awesome. I like to read more from from you

Meenu Oct 15, 2012

very creep.

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