The Cursed Song ~ a ghost story (pt 2)

by electricmask

In the spirit of October, each Monday this month will see a new section of Erik Virtanen’s four part short story ‘The Cursed Song’

But how long can a man give his soul to nobodies without feelin’ like a nobody himself? Buddy’s eyes turned to bigger and better stages. Friday nights. Saturday nights. Money. Gettin’ paid to strum his life away.

Fat Manny put him on for a Thursday, but the place was dead. Think there was a school shootin’ that day or a big ball game on that night – but for Manny (how’s a man get so fat?), for Fat Manny, no listeners means no money means back to Tuesday. Tuesday, with its three song max. Fuckin’ open stage night.

Way I heard it, no one outside Blacksmith batted an ear at the poor kid. He booked other joints, sang for other folk, but his songs didn’t touch no one there. He even made some recordin’, sent that round too. Nothin’.

Buddy couldn’t catch a break. And it killed his music. It killed the honesty. We saw frustration when he took the stage. We could tell he stopped believin’ his words. He started questionin’ himself, changin’ this and that, experimentin’, testin’ things out, changin’ back . . . you get my drift.

When all along, Buddy Rock didn’t need to change. He just needed to know that the world outside wasn’t ready for his honesty. He spoke a language that belonged in the Blacksmith Pub. Down in this grimy dive for us losers. His music. Our music. It belonged here.

Time’s a two-bit whore. Ya know what I mean? It needs all yer hopes and all yer memories to get you to fuck around in the present. An empty place. An’ our Buddy, well, he thought a sun shone bright outside this fire-lit cave. His heart wouldn’t rest ‘till he broke free from his chains and climbed on out. Problem is . . . you can’t.

You ever hear of an old ballad called, “Mary May Be Dead”? I hadn’t either. The full title is “Mary May Be Dead, But You and I Are Dancin’”.

(stay tuned for next week’s installment of The Cursed Song)