Plucking away at the strings his fingers long since numb. Dry and tired eye search the mostly blank peices of paper surrounding him."Immortal strains, I watch them unfold..."
He paused, no, not this time, he wouldn't give in to the screaming.
Trace picked up a red pen and scribbled down the words that flowed from his broken memories. Once he was finished he threw the paper aside, refusing to read what he'd written. His attention turning back to the strings,
"This will do."
The door had been locked from the inside, he's spent enough time alone. Trace got up off of the floor and walked out into the outer room, the purple and green hue of murky lights in the smoke filled room. His band members, the rest of 'the broken lines' anxiously looking towards the drunk looking man.
"I'll finish the lyrics tonight, here's the music."
There where several bands playing at the week long concert. Trace, however, was the only one to be ordacious enough to boast a new song by the end of the week for the final performance.
The badly treated text book was flung at the three sitting on the couch. Trace left the shared trailor, choosing to go to his own. The security had been lacking since there was a murder on the other end of the concert grounds. Trace sighed, the mist from his breath creating a fog, his band mates and even some of the fans believed he would characteristically now go on a drinking binge, this was a farce. Trace would do anything to stop the screaming, anything but that.
Trace hissed, slamming his fist against the door of his trailor, he'd lost his keys again. Turning a circle he looked as if he didn't know where to go. The man balled his fists looking at the window, he could break it and enter that way. He thought for a while about it before taking a deep breath and whispering,
"Pes-morti were-"
His hand felt hot as he stopped, it ached horribly as he spoke the words that where being screamed to him within his mind. Trace tried to shake it off then punched his door again, the feeling returned to his arm and the door creeked as the latch on the inside broke. Trace hissed again, his hand hurt too much to try and pry the door free now. He'd be forced to go back to that smoke filled trailor.
