#papier-mâché guitar

[chloe-spade]

Tangled Up Act One: When Will My Life Begin

Seventeen years have passed since that faithful day and the young boy has become a young man with an open window, looking around. He was playing hide and seek with a lovely chameleon he adopted years prior, and now was looking for him.

The Tower's height never scared him anymore as he used his hair to look around for his friends again. It was a morning activity that was fun and helped Silver relax for the day, as predicted. But that wasn't going to deter him from winning the game.

"It seems like Epel isn't hiding out here," Silver hummed as he entered the tower once again.

He stopped for a moment before using a strand of his hair to pull the camouflaged chameleon from his hiding spot and he giggled. "Gotcha!"

"That's so unfair!" Epel pouted, "You always know to find me."

"What did you expect?" Deuce, a bluebird, questioned. "Silver became an expert after a while."

"He's good," Ace, a red hedgehog, added, "You keep underestimated him, and just because you are a chameleon doesn't mean you can't hide from him."

"But I was actually practicing," Epel groaned again.

Silver laughed again and took Epel into his hands, sitting on the window. "Sorry about that. I just like playing this game in the mornings, helps me wake up as well." He paused for a moment, "Well, is it a two out of three?"

Epel made a sour face in response.

"Ok,ok," Silver relented, "What do you guys want to do?"

"Oh, how about we go outside? Like outside, and I mean, outside this tower." Ace recommended, "I heard the grass is much softer when spring slowly turns into summer and I could smell all the flowers."

"And fly around the blue sky." Deuce chirped.

"And maybe I can actually win at hide and seek," Epel added, "This tower is becoming predictable for hiding spots. I need more space and atmosphere."

"No," Silver objected, "Come on, I like it in here and so do you guys."

"Not really."

"I wouldn't so."

"I hate that place."

Silver rolled his eyes, and lifted Ace and Epel, "For you guys, it's not, but it's nice and homey for me, like Father intended. Now, are you going to help me clean?" Silver smiled and grabbed his broom looked at the clock and watched how the clock struck 7:00.

☀️

7 AM, the usual morning lineup

Start on the chores and sweep 'til the floor's all clean

Polish and wax, do laundry, and mop and shine up

Sweep again and by then it's like 7:15

☀️

Silver sighed as he looked up at the clock, it was exactly 7:15. He was almost exhausted from how fast he worked, but he was done.

"Already?" Ace questioned, "That was fast."

"Time flies when you do chores, I suppose," Silver chuckles, "Let's have some fun."

☀️

And so I'll read a book, or maybe two or three

I'll add a few new paintings to my gallery

I'll play guitar and knit and cook and basically

Just wondering, when will my life begin?

☀️

"Ace, stop," Silver huffs, "They're warm, and you need to wait," he puts down the tray, "I don't want you to have a tummy ache before lunch."

"You also ate all the cookies before everyone else," Deuce added, "which sucks."

"You glutton," Epel scoffed.

"It was good," Ace pouted, "and that means eating cookies as well."

"No fighting," Silver lectured, before he looked above the fireplace and stood back, "Hey, don't you think that looks, uh, bland?"

The Animal Trip looked over at the area and examined it.

"Pretty bland," Ace agreed, "It needs something, like your touch. Like, a…"

"Like, a portrait! Or a beautiful painting." Deuce cheered.

"I even have some ideas!" Epel beamed.

Silver smiles and gets up onto the furnace, Deuce delivers his paints and paintbrush, and he starts to examine and looks around, and starts to paint for a while until lunch begins.

☀️

Then after lunch, it's puzzles and darts and baking

Papier-mâché, a bit of ballet and chess

☀️

"Checkmate," mumbled a dazed Silver, on the floor, wrapped around his hair. But it was worth it to finally beat Deuce in chess, even though he'll bruise later.

"Are you ok!?" Epel gasped in worry.

"I told him that dancing while playing what a bad idea," Deuce sighed. "But he was stubborn."

"..at least he wasn't sleeping," Ace piped up.

☀️

Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making

Then I'll stretch, maybe sketch

Take a climb, sew a dress

☀️

"I hate this," Ace muttered, "It's tight." He struggled as the dress slowly began to tighten his quills, causing some of the fabric to break apart.

"…well, you are ripping it apart," Deuce muttered, resting on Silver's shoulder.

Silver smiles and looks back at the book, "This is what the book says. And it looks nice, and I made sure it'll be good for you."

Epel laughs, "It's nice and funny. And I think it fits you so well."

Ace pouted, looking down, "Stop it…this was embarrassing. Why couldn't Epel wear this?"

"He knows that if he were to touch me, I'm about to bite him," Epel answered with pride.

Silver watched and yawned, having a feeling of a more boring day. He walks upstairs, grabs the books rests on his bed, and yawns once more, looking down at the books with boredom, already prepared to reread everything.

☀️

And I'll reread the books if I have time to spare

I'll paint the walls some more, I'm sure there's a room somewhere

And then I'll brush and brush and brush and brush my hair

Stuck in the same place I've always been

☀️

"Thank you," Silver took the brush from Deuce and sighed, "You guys are right. Outside would be much more fun than all of this. It's got so tiring, being here all day. And with everything here all at once, I need something new, and I want that."

☀️

And I'll keep wonderin' and wonderin'

And wonderin' and wonderin'

When will my life begin?

☀️

Silver climbs down walks over to the window and looks up at the sky, watching the sky filled with different stars above, whenever his birthday comes. He wants to feel it. Feel the fire within the lanterns and feel the breeze that'll allow them to be carried to the heavens.

☀️

Tomorrow night, lights will appear

Just like they do on my birthday each year

☀️

Silver slowly began to paint himself with his new painting, watching the strange stars from beyond the trees and wishing to be there with his friends and his father, enjoying his birthday. The one wish he always wanted to ask every year and he concluded that it was that year he won't hesitate.

☀️

What is it like out there where they glow?

Now that I'm older, Father might just let me go

☀️

Silver sighed as he rested on the window again, but with a more somber face than his previous happiness from earlier. To think he would laugh his friends off about how boring the tower was but now he sees it, feels it, and hates it. He just sighed sadly again, looking up.

Deuce, Epel, and Ace go over to Silver and begin to comfort him, by nuzzling him.

"Hey, it'll be alright," Ace spoke, "maybe this year, he'll stop treating you like a prisoner and let you go."

"Maybe," Silver agreed, "but I know my father. No matter what I said, it would be told on deaf ears. Like last year, and the many years before that."

"Silver, know that you'll get your wish, and we'll be right here beside you, watching those lanterns fly up into the sky." Silver giggles softly and pets Deuce's feathers.

"Hey, I'll be fine," Silver yawned and walked away to his bedroom, "I'll ask him soon…I promise."

He entered his room, looking at the paintings he made when his hair was long enough too. He lay down on his bed, looking up at them before he felt his eyes gotten heavy. He hums and slowly falls asleep, using his hair as a soft blanket, as he tends to do.

"He's been up here for years," Deuce mourned, "I hope he can finally walk on the grass and have fun." He nuzzles Silver's head, "It'll be better than just being cooped up in here."

"Yeah," Ace groaned, "He's so…I don't want to say this but he's pretty clueless about the world. I mean, he didn't know what I was when we met, and he called me a small mini dog, with spikes."

Epel chuckled, "He was only 7, Ace, but it did cement his living situation. Now, come on, we should rest before Crewel comes back." They walk over and carefully rest themselves within Silver's hair and slowly drift to sleep, enjoying the soft hair.

☀

The Kingdom of Sol was not so far, especially to an outsider. With King Lilia in charge, the kingdom is a thriving location with every celebration becoming a long-awaited tradition that everyone knows of.

Another known thing was the thieves.

Three wanted thieves were now on top of the kingdom, ready to go one of the most horrendous crimes of all time.

"Look at the view," Fang hummed, "I could never get old of it."

"Indeed, but we have a job to do," Jade reminded, pulling Fang towards an open window that Floyd had opened, "and don't forget, you owe Azul after that horrendous stunt of yours. It was either this or your tongue."

Fang groaned, "I get it, I get it."

Fanf was a thief, a thief who accidentally stole from Azul Ashengrotto, a man who works for himself, and now has to repay his new debt, the only thing he could steal is the kingdom crown, and it was either his own life or a luxury he could steal.

Many do not know much about Fang, the other being known as the Beastman. He wasn't feared, per se. Just wanted since childhood to steal anything he could eat, wear, and steal. He was caught occasionally, but he had some small allies that always got him out.

"Don't worry," Floyd giggled, "if this is valuable to repay your debt, then you steal it. It's quite simple."

Fang huffs and wraps himself with a rope, "You doubt me?"

Jade and Floyd roll their eyes and begin to move Ruggie down into the crown room. Fang carefully looks around to make sure the guards are around the crown, making sure that nobody comes in or out. The crown sits ideally onto a special case, with the name "Silver" engraved on the podium it remained on, and looks like it hasn't been touched in years, well, until Fang's hand grabbed and stuffed it into his satchel.

He didn't know why Azul wanted such a remarkable yet clearly sentimental item. Fang was appalled when he was told about the job and almost got his tongue ripped out. He was a thief, but he was not low enough to steal something that meant so much. But he had to do it, regardless of his feelings.

He almost jumped as a guard sneezed.

"Ah, spring fever, right?" Fang teased.

"Y-yeah, not the best at the mom-," The guard answered before quickly turning around, locking eyes with Fang.

It was only a moment before his spear almost gutted Fang, and the thing that saved him was a quick pull from the twins.

Fang laughed as he landed on the castle roof, with glares from Jade but a giddy smile from Floyd.

"Was that really necessary?" Jade sighed as they began to climb down.

"Who cares! It was fun, almost seeing Fangy getting gutted," Floyd added with a laugh.

"Guys!" Fang laughed, "Sneaked into the castle, through the guards, and stole the most valuable item all in one morning, and if that doesn't tell you that this was going to be a great day, then you'll be extremely wrong! This just become a very great day!"

☀️

"Today's the day," Silver announced, "Today's the day I'm going to ask him."

"Finally," Ace groaned, "you've been cooped here for years, and now's the day you asked. But I have a bad feeling about this."

"How so?" Questioned Silver, putting away his art supplies, "I think now that I'm older, he's bound to be more understanding. I'm almost 18 years old, and I'm strong and responsible enough to help out."

"We know," Deuce chuckled, "We watched how you trained for this day."

"All the bruises and splinters are all worth it, "Silver smiles and carefully set the paintbrushes down, "I'm excited, and I'm so prepared for this, but I have to be very convincing/"

"Have you practiced in the mirror?" Epel asked.

"Of course I have, not that it works as my impression of Father is not the greatest." Silver admitted. "But I know what to say and what to do and if things do go south, I know how to distract him."

"Silver!" A man called from below, "My little flower!"

Silver gasped and helped the animals behind the curtains. "Ok, just stay here. I got this…just pray for me."

"Our little paws are crossed." Epel whispered as Silver walked away.

"Silver, I'm not getting younger down here," Silver's Father, Crewel announced, fixing his hair. Silver peaks out and quickly set his hair on the small hook and released his hair, watching it fly down onto the ground, easily for Crewel to grab it and use it as a rope, Silver pulled it with all his strength, raising Crewel to the top of the tower's window. Silver helps Crewel inside takes his cape, and proceeds to hang it on the nearby hanger.

"Oh, Silver," Crewel cooed, cupping Silver's cheeks, "how could you do that without fainting? It must've been so tiring for such a delicate flower such as yourself."

Silver chuckled, "I know but I'm used to it, and besides, it makes me stronger every day." Crewel smiles and pats Silver's head.

"That's why I'm so proud of you," He laughed, "such a cute young boy."

"Not that young," Silver protested.

"Tomoto, Tomato," Crewel laughed, smelling the air. "Oh! What delicacy you baked today?"

"Oh, the usual, chocolate chip cookies."

Silver answered, set down his stool, and gave Crewel his brush. He sits down and gives Crewel his hair to brush. Silver begins to hum, but unknowingly to him, he is humming so fast that the magic of his hair comes and goes within a few seconds. That caused a small panic in Crewel as he brushed quickly and gasped as the magic surrounded him.

"Silver," Crewel lectured, "What has gotten into you? That was…oddly fast. What's the deal?" Silver flushes a little, and looks over at the hidden painting, watching Ace, Epel, and Deuce egged him on.

"Well, I was just excited about something."

"Hmm, what about?"

"Well, my birthday, Father," Silver spoke up, "Um…we both know that my birthday is tomorrow, and I have one massive request that would make me very happy."

"Other than the paints, sewing supplies, hair supplies, gardening supplies, and the newest brush after you broke your old one?" Crewel teased and laughed. "Aw, don't worry, if its for my sweet little flower, anything."

Silver took a breath and said, "I want to see the floating lights…"

"Floating lights?"

"….ah, well, I could be more specific." Silver stammered, "I want to see the floating lights that I see every night on my birthday. And I mean, by seeing them, not just from the tower, but outside. Out there, and I know you think I'm not ready for it, but I know I'm ready."

Crewel's eyes darkened for a moment, but kept a kind smile, "You mean those bright stars?"

Silver sighs, "They're not stars, Father."

He climbed up and showed Crewel a star diagram he created years prior, causing a small gasp from Crewel. "I recorded every moment of star movements depending on the year, but these stars only appeared on my birthday as dusk appeared, it's a repeating pattern and I know that." Silver climbs down and shows his newest painting, which surprised Crewel again, "All I'm asking is for this one day to see these in person and that it'll make my life complete."

Crewel was silent for a moment, before sighing. "I understand you, I truly do," he stood up and asked Silver to get down to stroke his hair, "You are already capable but…you want to go outside? Why, Silver."

Crewel chuckled before walking towards the window and closing the doors.

"Look at you, as fragile as a flower. Just a little sapling, just a sprout. You know why we stay up in this tower?"

"Yes, I do, but," Silver began but was interrupted.

☀️

That's right, to keep you safe and sound, dear

I always knew this day was coming

Knew that soon you'd want to leave the nest

Soon, but not yet

☀️

"But—," Silver protested but was interrupted by his father again, finger on his lips.

☀️

Shh! Trust me, pup

Father knows best

☀️

A hip to the tower and the smallest window close, leaving the tower dark but Silver was prepared as he prepared a candle to look around for Crewel but didn't expect a scare from him as he looked. He was now annoyed but kept his composure.

☀️

Father knows best, listen to your father

It's a scary world out there

Father knows best, one way or another

Something will go wrong, I swear

☀️

Silver wasn't exactly convinced, especially when Crewel had to grab his hair to cast an illusion of a thief, trying to steal his hair, that was until he tripped onto the floor and all spooky shadows of things he should fear. It even ended with a crude shadow of a man, ready to grab if it wasn't for Silver's quick reflexes.

☀️

Ruffians, thugs, poison ivy, quicksand

Cannibals and snakes

The plague

☀️

"Wait no!" Silver gasped.

"Yes!" Crewel cackled, shining the green light onto Silver's face.

"Father, please-," Silver begged, only to be pushed onto the floor by a mop, and face to face with a horrible painting of a shared tooth man.

☀️

Also large bugs

People with pointy teeth, and

Stop, no more, you'll just upset me

☀️

Silver sighs and looks around for his father again. He sees Crewel and walks toward him, but once he does, it is just a mannequin. Silver frowns and looks back at the stairs, lights leading up and Crewel walking down with a smirk.

☀️

Father's right here, Father will protect you

Darling, here's what I suggest

Skip the drama, stay with Papa

Father knows best

☀️

"Father, I think you overreacting," Silver groaned, "I am fully aware of those horrible things. I am not stupid, nor naive."

☀️

Go ahead, get trampled by a rhino

Go ahead, get mugged, and left for dead ("Father, enough..")

Me, I'm just your father, what do I know?

I only bathed and changed and nursed you

Go ahead and leave me, I deserve it

Let me die alone here, go on be my guest ("You are pushing it, Father,")

When it's too late, you'll see, just wait

Father knows best

☀️

Silver gasped as he looked up again, and Crewel was gone, only the scent of the candle wax by the stairs. Silver sighs grabs a match and starts to light the candles again, completely unaware that Crewel was putting them out simply with his fingers.

☀️

Father knows best, take it from your popsy

On your own, you won't survive

☀️

A mirror appeared in front of Silver, and Crewel appeared on its side, looking Silver up and down as if he was judging him up and down, which in hindsight, is not a great move.

☀️

Your sloppy, underdressed, immature, clumsy

Please, they'll eat you up alive

☀️

Crewel grabbed Silver and started to wrap his hair all around him, causing Silver to become entrapped, muffling towards his Father to let him out, with Crewel laughing.

☀️

Gullible, naïve, positively grubby

Ditzy and a bit, well, hmm, vague

Plus, I believe, gettin' kinda chubby

☀️

That was until he flung Silver like he was a spinning top toy, which annoyed Silver as Crewel grabbed his chin, so they met eye to eye. "You are not…," Silver whispers, trying to hide his nausea, "…funny.."

☀️

I'm just saying 'cause I love you

Father understands, Father's here to help you

All I have is one request

☀️

Silver finally loses his balance and lands in Crewel's arms, feeling Crewel comforting him.

"Silver?" Crewel spoke softly towards him.

"What is it?" Silver groaned, looking up.

"Don't ever ask to leave this tower again," Crewel demanded, his grip becoming tight around Silver's shoulder.

"Yes, Father…" Silver finally yielded.

"I love you very much, my child," Crewel cooed.

"I love you more."

"I love you most."Crewel grinned and kissed Silver's hair, his hand now caressing it.

☀️

Don't forget it, you'll regret it

Father knows best

☀️

Silver didn't know what to say after that conversation after all that had happened, so instead, he went to his room to get his mind off it.

"Maybe Father is right," he spoke to himself, looking at the mirror, questioning if he was even ready to go out of the old tower, a place that he lived in for so many years. "Maybe I'm asking for too much from him…" He sighs, lying down on his bed.

☀️

I've got my Father's love

I shouldn't ask for more

I've got so many things

I should be thankful for

Yes, I have everything

Except I guess, a door

Perhaps it's better that I stay in

But tell me, when will my life begin?

☀️

"Silver," Crewel called out, "I'm ready to leave again," He announced, getting ready. Silver takes a small breath and walks downstairs, trying his best to look unaffected by Crewel's cruel words, and grabs his hair to let down.

Crewel frowns and hugs Silver, "Oh, don't be like that, my flower, I know what I was was horrible but I need you to know that I'm worried about you."

"I-I know," Silver stammered softly, and started to let his hair down.

Crewel sighs and looks at Silver again. "I never meant to hurt you, my flower, but this world is not ready for someone as extraordinary as you or your hair." He grabbed onto the hair, "I'll be back, ok? I love you, my dear."

"I love you too," Silver mumbled softly.

"No more mumbling," Crewel managed to say before sliding down. As he departed down, he called out, "I'll be back with lunch!"

Silver watched him walk away before letting his hair down and mumbling, "I'll be here."

Silver noticed Deuce on his shoulder and sighed, "I'm sorry. I thought I could convince him, and I just froze up. Like I always do."

"I wouldn't blame ya," Epel talked, climbing onto the window. "Your father seems very mean."

"No, he isn't. He's just…overprotective." Silver defended, "…I hope he's wrong. Maybe I still have a chance."

☀️

Despite running what felt like an eternity, the royal guards are still right on their trail. "Jade, can we do something about these annoying guards," Floyd said, annoyed that he was running away from them instead of doing the chasing. "I just want to squeeze them now."

"As much I want to say yes, we are unfortunately outnumbered," Jade responded, sounding extremely out of breath.

They hear the stomping of the guards' horses getting close, and they all quickly run to the left and hide in the thick brush of the forest. They finally were able to breathe for a moment, just as long they didn't give their location away.

"Okay, once the coast is clear we'll take the long way back," Ruggie whispers to the twins.

"What? I don't want to do that," Floyd answered, "this mission was incredibly boring from the start."

"It's either we have a long walk or get captured."

Their short conversation ended when they heard a horse's whale coming right for them. And as the thieves got out of their hiding spot, a large horse destroyed the bush. Looking more furious than the captain himself "I found them!" The apparent captain shouted, alerting the rest of his team.

Once again, Ruggie and the twins begin to run away. While he and Floyd throw many insults at the guards. They ran farther and farther into the woods, able to lose most of the guards but some were very close by. They were able to stop once again, this time behind oak trees, with some old and withered, wanted posters, of them.

"I didn't expect to see these far out here," Jade remakes.

"I guess it shows how popular we have gotten over the last few months," Floyd responded, somewhat admiring the well-drawn wanted papers.

"Azul better keeps his end of the bargain of his deal, because I'm not going to die over some stupid crown," Ruggie mumbled to himself. "Well that's what you get when you try to steal something from him," Jade said with a smug look on his face.

Before stealing the royal crown, Ruggie was already in hot water when he decided to steal a valuable item from Azul. For him not to get squeezed to death by Floyd, Azul offered him a deal.

"If you want to live for another day, you would have to steal the lost prince's crown, after all, a lot of people are willing to buy it at a high price," Azul told him those few days ago, which at that point Ruggie is starting to wish he didn't take the offer. Ruggie hopes that Azul might be generous enough to lend him some of that money after he's risking his life for this act of service. As they pay attention to their surroundings, Ruggie notices his wanted poster…and gets irritated seeing it.

"Oh come on you got to be kidding me," he spoke, ripping off the poster from the tree.

"What is it, Fang," Floyd asked.

"…they got my ears wrong again." Ruggie showed the twins the poster, showing them a drawn picture of himself, only that his ears looked more like cat ears than his hyena ones. "Are they that hard to even draw them?" Ruggie asked, offended by this discovery.

"I'm rather surprised that finally made you upset, you did have to deal with my brother for the past 24 hours and he didn't make you this annoyed," Jade spoke.

"Compared to your guy's wanted poster it looks fantastic, and then there's mine, they always mess up the ears."

That's when the conversation stopped once more, as they heard the familiar voices of the guards, they all stood low and quickly moved. That's when the three reach a large piece of earth, blocking off their path.

"Well crap," Floyd spoke. "It's best that we think of a plan now before the guards catch up," Jade informed. Ruggie noticed this little cliff was much taller than the twins and himself, but not too tall to lift someone over.

"Okay, I have an idea," Ruggie said. "Are we going to lift someone up?" Floyd asked.

"Glad you caught on," Ruggie stated, "since you two are tall enough, you can help me get over the ledge and I could lift you two up with me." The twins looked at each other, suspicious about Ruggie's idea, but since they had no choice they had to do it.

"Alright, just give us the satchel first," Jade spoke.

"Really?"

"Just because we've known you for a few days doesn't mean we trust you, so you can either hand it over or we make you lift the both of us." Jade threatened with a calm smile.

Ruggie sighed and handed over the satchel, and they quickly made a human tower, Floyd being the support while Jade lifted Ruggie over. Once done, Ruggie looks down, seeing his teammates.

"Alright, pull me up," Jade spoke "I would, but I got my hands full."

"What-" Ruggie showed the satchel, the strap cut and him holding a small dagger along with it.

"Since I have a sneaky feeling that Azul is going to cheat his way out of the bargain, I wanted to do it first," Ruggie stated getting up quickly.

"Why you little-"

"Tell Azul I said thanks for your guy's volunteer work."

With that, Ruggie began to run off, hearing the twins cursing him out, slowly fading away when he got deeper into the woods.

But unfortunately for him, he was still being followed by one of the guards. "And here I thought I was going to get a break," he thought to himself when he heard the cries of the royal guard's horse. Ruggie had to be quick to get this guard off his trail, so he decided to go under steep hills, and duck under some branches while avoiding the many arrows that were trying to hit him.

That's when he saw a perfect opportunity, not only there was another hill to go down but some tree branches were low enough for him to grab on. As he runs towards it, he gets his momentum ready and focuses. Right before going down the hill, he jumps onto the branch, with his speed as well he swings around the branch and surprises the unexpected guard. Kicking behind the head was enough for him to fall off his horse, who ran down the hill in the meantime. But stopped when it noticed his owner fell off. Ruggie lands and is shocked and dizzy.

"I didn't expect that to work but man, that was incredible." Before he could do anything else, he realized that not only did he recognize the horse from earlier, but it stopped in his tracks, turned, and glared at him.

"What are waiting for?" Ruggie asked, then grabbed the reigns, "Let's go!"

The horse continued to glare but his eyes slowly drifted to the bag knowing that the stolen crown was hidden in it. He went to snatch it but was pulled away from Ruggie.

"No. This is mine." Ruggie laughs, "It's not nice to steal from- Hey!!"

The horse took another snap at Ruggie's bag, which began a struggle between the two, pulling the satchel back and forth and it seemed like the horse was winning, the unfortunate enemies anciently let their guard down as the satchel was flung to a nearby tree branch over a cliff. Both stare at each other as if to keep an eye on the other.

Ruggie looks over at the horse before jumping off and sprinting towards the satchel, the horse following suit. This was now a war between the hyena and the horse as they pushed, pulled, punched, tripped, and kicked to prevent the other from going near the satchel. The horse had the upper hand, pushing Ruggie off the branch, but backfired as Ruggie grabbed onto the log with strength.

Ruggie gripped the tree log for dear life. The growl from the horse informed Ruggie that he shouldn't be there for long, so like a little bug, he scurried, also trying to avoid the horse stomping his hooves to purposely break his hands while he climbed.

"This is such a weird day!" Ruggie called out to the horse, "I just wanted to get rich and now I'm trying to escape a horse. Today is not my day."

Ruggie took the satchel in his hands, having a mere moment of victory, only moving to take the satchel away from the horse. A small creek was heard, as the branch slowly tumbled down due to the two fighting and the extra weight they brought. Both stood still, hoping if they stood still, the branch would not break.

But it was false hope as the branch snapped and fell. The enemies looked at each other before screaming as they tumbled down the cliff. A rock broke the branch, separating the two. The horse immediately got back up after he tumbled, looking for Ruggie, and sniffing the area for him.

Unaware of the horse, Ruggie hid behind a boulder, big enough to hide his small form.

Ruggie panted, only hearing faint sounds of the horse walking past, before accidentally falling through the vines behind him. Confused, he walked through, which led to a small cavern, and at the end was a huge tower, it wasn't even that old and abandoned, but nicely decorated, especially with the vines growing around it.

"Why is there a tower all the way out here?" Ruggie questioned, walking over to it, and looking up at the length.

"I mean, if it's hidden, I should be safe from the knights and those pesky twins." Ruggie grabbed two arrows from the knights and started to climb it, surprised at how huge this tower was, and questioned why it was built in the first place. By the time he got to the window, he sighed to himself and entered the tower. Ruggie looks around for a little bit, surprised at how decorative it was, considering it was an old tower hidden from society.

"..well," he laughs, "this is a perfect place for me to hide in. And," he opens the satchel, "we are alone at last." The last thing that happened was a huge clang and a body was now on the floor unconscious.

[voskhozhdeniye]

So @bobbyhillrealness is doing a zine on artists among their friends and family, and has sent us questions to answer about our art. One of the questions is, "Three songs that would describe your work?"

I figured I'd share my answer on here too. I'll do three songs that have been/are influential to my music, and three of my own that I look at as moments where it felt like things clicked for me.

Nine Inch Nails - Vessel: Year Zero was my first NIN album. Trent and Radiohead are probably the two groups that after being raised on major label top 40s as a child, and well into my teens, really made me pay attention to aspects of being an artist that I had never considered. There's a Thom York quote about Radiohead opening for R.E.M., and how while musically R.E.M. aren't a huge influence on Radiohead, being around R.E.M. showed them how to carry themselves as a band. Both NIN and Radiohead have had nasty battles with record labels in the past. Trent has been trying to put out a live DVD since 2008. His ex record label, which he hasn't been on since 2007, has blocked each attempt. In 2008, he "helped" fans sneak cameras into multiple shows. He then "leaked" his personal audio recordings of those shows online. The fans made and distributed their own DVD. Both bands, in different ways, taught me to value the creative process. As for the song in general, I had never heard anything like that at the time. That song, and the album in general, really made me pay attention to what I was listening to. I started questioning what I was listening to, and wondering how it was made. After years of listening to Trent's music, the thing I've noticed is that he is very good at fitting noisy, experimental sounds, tones and ideas into compact pop music structure. Closer sounds like a children's merry go round in hell. My Movement modular synth was built to sound like Vessel.

DJ Shadow - Stem/Long Stem: Every song on this album is made up of samples from other songs. So the drums might be from one song, the bass from another, a guitar sample from one place, a piano sample from another, and so on. Earlier, I'm referencing an answer to another question not mentioned in this post, I spoke about how I gather scraps from everyday life for my art, particularly for my writing. Shadow is the musical equivalent, gathering samples from all over the musical spectrum to build new compositions. I think of art like papier-mâché. You take small pieces and build towards a grander piece. Trent and Miles Davis, when he was alive, worked in a similar way to Shadow, except instead of using other people's samples. They record their bands playing, and then chop up, sample, and rearrange their own recordings. That's where I'm at with my music now.

Yellow Swans - Going Places & Pan Sonic - Teurastamo: Yellow Swans and Pan Sonic are groups I've learned about in recent years. Both have influenced my music in different ways. Yellow Swans are noisy, walls of sound. When I first started building the modular, the goal was to build a drone machine. As I built it, the Daft Punk fan in me also wanted a say in its construction. There was a point where I found these two influences to be conflicting. I have always loved Daft Punk's Rollin' & Scratchin'. While that song is a good example of that combination, I imagined noise damaged dance music, equally indebted to both styles. Pan Sonic made dance music, but they were equally interested in harsh noise. Early Yellow Swans incorporates drums and at times sounds like really aggressive '90s Busta Rhymes beats. I haven't really looked up what either band's creative process was, but through listening, I've picked up things that I've attempted to try with the tools and knowledge available to me.

As for my own music.

December: There's a joke among modular synth users. There are multiple formats of modular. The version I use is named Eurorack. It's been nicknamed by some as Eurocrack. This is from 2017. It was the first of my now monthly State of the Artist patch. I was less than a year into everything at that point, and was spending money on modules unsure if I actually had talent, or if it was the money hiding deficiencies. Looking back, that was a very simple patch, but my inexperience made it a good teaching moment. I think that was the first thing I made that made me feel like it wasn't the money. Honestly, at times it has been money holding me back, but a lot of times it's just been inexperience, which is resolved with time, and the lack of ability to transfer thoughts into tangible art. I feel like your creative process is learning how to overcome that hurdle.

The Future: This was April 2020. I had just gotten the music computer right before Christmas and was still learning my way around. I had formed an early process when working on the computer, and was working at getting more comfortable with it. This is a very simple track. It's just a short sequence repeating over and over while I manipulate the filter type and filter cutoff. I'm very interested in catharsis through art. This was an attempt at something like Nils Frahm's Says.

Nature Walk Daydream: This is longer than it needs to be, but oh well. This is from April, and it really conveys the DJ Shadow everything goes in the pot thinking I spoke about earlier. This starts with multiple loops of birds I recorded early one morning. Eventually, a synth that resembles the bird calls joins in. As the song slowly unfolds, drums come in and the bird calls become a part of a beat. The idea for the song is that you're taking a walk through the woods and begin to daydream. When it goes back to just the birds, it's you being snapped out of the daydream.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Ashnikko Album Review: WEEDKILLER

(Parlophone/Warner Records)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

It's rare that someone's debut album is a concept record, though if anyone were to successfully on first pass navigate the murky waters between establishing a fictional narrative and making a larger statement about humanity as a whole, it would be trap metal singer-songwriter and rapper Ashnikko. On WEEDKILLER, a fairy civilization has been destroyed by machines, and the protagonist essentially becomes part machine in order to uproot the system from within. You can immediately see parallels to the crises of our time, from climate change to the legislative war on people with uteruses and LGBTQ+ folks; Ashnikko doesn't suggest to either burn it all down or incrementally pick battles, instead focusing on their own emotions to elicit empathy. It works to cement both their imperfections and wants.

Fittingly, some of the best songs on WEEDKILLER are about desire, especially queer desire. The Daniela Lalita-featuring erotica of "Super Soaker" skitters to corporeal heights. "Don't Look At It" is less spiritual, more physical, Ashnikko comparing themselves to Tony Hawk as they're "doin' tricks until my tongue hurt." "Miss Nectarine" details Ashnikko's childhood friend who they'd make out with to "practice for the boys," Ashnikko developing unrequited feelings. "The bruise of bein' fourteen / Got chlorine in our hair, my jaw is shaking in my mouth," they sing, the warbly auto-tune an effective window into their emotional volatility. And "Possession of a Weapon", written after the overturning of Roe v. Wade, effectively alternates between anger and mournful acceptance. "How dare I have private desires?" Ashnikko asks, at the same time realistically and sadly comparing their own body to a chess piece in a game played by lawmakers, their autonomy as strong against oppressive rain as papier-mâché.

Ashnikko has been making music for almost a decade and releasing it for over half that time, so they've certainly established somewhat of a visual and sonic identity. WEEDKILLER doesn't upend what they'd been exploring on their EPs and debut mixtape DEMIDEVIL, but it's certainly their most cohesive statement yet. The title track and "World Eater" form not just the conceptual but musical base for the whole album, a conglomerate of trap beats, cascading synths, and power chords. "Worms", in which Ashnikko makes the best of their own decomposition within a post apocalyptic-world, features surprisingly limber bars and inventive rhyme schemes, as they declare, "Brand-new day, got a brand-new grin / Got a colony of ants underneath my skin / My bones decay, now I'm gelatin / I swear I'm better, Miss Parasite Possessor." From nu metal jams with metallic, clanging percussion to obvious, but successful Britney and Rihanna tributes, Ashnikko fulfills the promising pop dexterity they merely hinted at on previous releases.

And then there's "Dying Star", which takes another sonic left-turn and perhaps hints at where Ashnikko could go next. Featuring gothic Americana troubadour Ethel Cain, Ashnikko finds an aesthetic nestled somewhere in between the hyper-aggression of the rest of WEEDKILLER and Cain's slow-burning epics. The two harmonize, over repeatedly echoing guitar strums and bass lines, Ashnikko at one point singing, "I want something soft." After an album's worth of diss tracks and feelings bursting at the seams, they finally let themselves be vulnerable.

[choicescreen]

details of finn and toby’s apartment on the upper west side:

smells like lavender and orange.

soft turkish carpets.

silk top hat with a worn side on the wall. a friend gave it to them after his show closed. finn used it for a costume when greta turned 12 and he hammed it up for her birthday party. he wore a tuxedo with tails and spoke in rp english for the whole night. he had everyone doing the same by the end of it, and the whole family wouldn’t stop giggling.

mason jar full of guitar picks. they’re toby’s. finn calls them guitar pickles.

terracotta colored couch that’s really comfy.

papier-mâché elephant on top of an old carved 1920s trunk.

many, many photographs -- most of them are loved ones, some are striking a pose, while some are candids. 

huge record collection.

some of finn’s paintings. most of those are in the building’s basement, though.

big personal library. four shelves! not entirely organized but that’s the charm, isn’t it?

lots of other sentimental items, decorations, and an assortment of endearingly kitschy knickknacks and design choices.

their bedroom’s got wispy, white curtains. there’s a red acoustic guitar in the corner. two pairs of slippers. two bathrobes -- yellow (finn), blue (toby).

toby’s bedside table has “empty cigarette packs, half a bottle of gin, and a york peppermint pattie wrapper”. finn’s has an old-fashioned alarm clock, and a frame with three photographs in it, containing: finn (35) and toby (27) in london, toby leaning his cheek to rest on finn’s head, 1976 (top), greta (8) and june (6) painting on easels in the living room, 1978 (middle), finn (17) and danni (20) -- his sister, june’s mom -- on a beach on the fourth of july, 1958 (bottom).

“so, which things are yours?” “i’ve lived here for almost nine years, june. it’s hard to say exactly what’s mine.”

[londonfoginacup]

Oh man an illustration of Harry’s future life would be absolutely the best thing I can think of right now. Now I’m curious about his wardrobe, I feel like he’d go for something surprising. Like I used to have an MD who was this old Russian man and his look was 70s glasses and statement tweed blazers. He found a look that spoke to him and wore it for the next 40 years. Bless you Dr. Boris, I love seeing people really commit to their favorite fashion. So for Harry definitely some hats because he loves hats. Those disgusting pond sock shoes that let him squelch around in the mud (so gross). Wigs for days in court but thr possibilités are endless. I think I’d really like to see him getting frustrated writing his novel that he just knows is going to change the world. And of course papier mâché. The toadstools aren’t just fun to make though, they decorate his duck room so the ducks feel at home. Sometimes he sits with them and plays them soft songs on his guitar to soothe them.

Turns out I have no idea how guitars work. But I’m good at phallic mushrooms!!

[findasongblog]

Find A Song about feeling directionless

Tarn PK - Papier-Mâché

‘Papier-Mâché' is a dynamic slow burn, incorporating a sonic palette of distorted guitars, synthesisers, and deflated drum sounds. Lyrically the song is reflective of a time in my life where I’d finished University and had to go into the big wide world and haven’t known where to go. It’s generally about feeling directionless and dealing with the pressure of making something of yourself in the face of 'achievement culture'.

Added to FAS Spotify playlists indie pop and our times.

via Musosoup

[lunapaper]

English Teacher’s ode to ‘The World’s Biggest Paving Slab’ is surprisingly dreamy but with a menacing undercurrent. 

‘I’m the world’s biggest paving slab/ So watch your fucking feet’ as frontwoman Lily Fontaine sings, her soothing vocal contrasting nicely with the song’s sprawling beats and psychedelic bursts of guitar, mixing post-punk grit with dream-pop sweetness.  

The clip itself is also delightfully kooky as a man with a papier-mâché head guides us down a magical path from the city to the countryside, the band performing against a stunning backdrop of rolling green hills. 

Says Fontaine (via Stereogum):

'I wrote and recorded the demo in my bedroom in one day, during my final year of university in 2018. Moving to a city for university forced me to reflect on how my experience of growing up in and around Pendle, how witnessing the social, economic and political issues that exist around there in juxtaposition with the beauty of the landscape and the characters that live within in it, has shaped me into the artist and person that I am. These semi-rural stories leak into most of my writing; in particular, this song tackles delusions of grandeur and inferiority from the perspective of a small town’s local celebrities. It’s split into two halves.'

Utterly slab-ulous (✿◠‿◠) 

- Bianca B. 

[musicarenagh]

Attic Theory and Kevin Martin Team Up for Powerful Anthem About Mental Health Attic Theory have released their third single, "Papier-Mâché", featuring Kevin Martin of Candlebox. The song is a powerful anthem about mental health, and it comes at a time when this topic is more important than ever. The song's lyrics are about the struggle to be true to oneself, even when others try to define you. The singer is metaphorically wearing a "papier-mâché" mask, hiding their true self from the world. They are medicated and suppressed, but they are still fighting to break free. The song's message is one of hope and empowerment. It is a reminder that we are not alone in our struggles, and that it is possible to overcome them. The collaboration with Kevin Martin is a perfect fit, as his vocals add an extra layer of emotion to the song. The song begins with a slow, brooding intro that sets the scene. The drums and bass create a dark and ominous atmosphere, while the guitars add layers of texture and melody. The vocals enter, singing about the feeling of being trapped in a world that doesn't understand them. As the song progresses, the tempo picks up and the energy level increases. The guitars become more distorted and the drums become more aggressive. The vocals become more passionate, expressing the singer's frustration and anger. The song reaches a climax of sound and emotion, before coming to a sudden stop. The listener is left breathless and exhilarated, just like the protagonist of the song. "Papier-Mâché" is a powerful and important song, and it is sure to resonate with anyone who has ever felt like they were wearing a mask. It is a reminder that we are all worthy of love and acceptance, just as we are. Listen to Papier-Mâché below https://open.spotify.com/track/7aD8S3xT9hhB1rPCxzr2Yw?si=90d847fb207e484b Follow Attic Theory on Instagram Facebook Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Youtube Instagram Tiktok

[guitarfromspain]

Sounding out tonewoods at GFS

Sounding out tonewoods at GFS

Every guitarist knows that their prized instrument is more than just the sum of its parts: a quality instrument has a unique feel and voice that only become easier to distinguish the more it is played. But having said that, every single part of the instrument makes a difference to the sound, from the gauge of the strings to the protective layers of lacquer applied to the finished instrument. Even…

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression, radio version - Ep 59, Nov 2016 - Looking at works of art from different perspectives, Sinkhole opens up in Fukuoka.

Kaoru starts by saying they are recording this show the day after the Kisou tour's male only/female only lives were over, and for some reason he hadn't been able to spot the face of someone who had said they were going to attend the male only live (Joe). Joe assures Kaoru he definitely will show up to one of the remaining dates of the tour, and admits that he forgot all about the male only live which he was supposed to attend.

Kaoru's first topic of interest is about an artist who made drawings by hand of quotes from famous movies once a day, and ended up with 365 of them. Kaoru is impressed that the artist was able to do this every day. He imagines it would be easy at first, but as the days pass, he thinks it would get pretty tough. Joe asks Kaoru if there is any particular kind of expression that he makes every single day. Not like eating breakfast or that type of thing, but, for example, playing guitar every day etc. Kaoru says he is not sure if playing guitar counts as an expression. He doesn't think he does have any everyday expressions, unless going to the toilet and forming an arc when peeing counts. Joe says thats a natural phenomenon, not an expression.

Getting back on topic, Joe senses a slight cynical aspect within the drawings, in the sense that a hand-drawn still could encompass more of 'movie' feel than real, modern CG movies do. Kaoru thinks these drawings allow you to see the movies from someone elses viewpoint, which may be different from the way you interpret them. Joe adds to this by saying he is quite interested in the concept of exophony, meaning the act of writing/making expressions in languages that are not your first language. He brings up the example of Japanese writer Tawada Yōko, who lives in Germany, and writes novels in German. Joe says although she is fluent in German, she is not quite at native novel writing standard, which makes her writing very different from the usual type. The words she uses are often read differently to the original intention she had (*see Wiki page for clearer explanation*). Joe finds it interesting that in a second or third language you can see how things are interpreted differently if you shift your viewpoint a bit. Kaoru links this to music by likening it to doing cover versions. He says that Dir en grey themselves have experience recording covers/tributes. He feels much more free when playing a cover compared to playing his own songs. There is a sense that you can do whatever you want, as long as you don't destroy the image of the original song too much. Also, you don't really have to think much when playing it live. The only part he has an issue with is covers being available to buy. He heard that a cover Dir en grey did is being sold (*ワルシャワの幻想?*). The situation around selling cover versions seems pretty unclear to him, and he wonders whether its ok.

Next, they welcome Tasai to the conversation, who starts by bringing up the unbelievable news that Donald Trump has been elected President of the USA. Joe asks Kaoru what he thinks about this, and Kaoru says the only thing to do is to watch and see what happens. Tasai offers one of the reasons for Trump's election as being white, poor people wanting to break open a hole in politics, and he uses this point to link back to Japan, where another terrible hole has opened up. This is the news of a massive sinkhole suddenly opening up outside Hakata Station in Fukuoka. At 30m wide, Tasai thinks this is like something out of a manga. Joe agrees with this, saying he was really shocked when he saw the images. Tasai explains that the hole was most likely caused by construction of a subway line that was going on underground near the station. One of his close friends was actually working in an office next to the sinkhole when it opened up, and has said that his work has been cancelled since.

Additionally, many voices have been raised that this is actually a real danger in cities like Tokyo and Osaka too, such places being crammed with subway lines underground. Shibuya is thought to be at particular risk of sinkholes occurring, because there is a river running right by the subway line there. With the ongoing construction in the area, Tasai says that a person named 'Kaneko san' has warned that people need to be alert to the danger. Kaoru interrupts to ask who Kaneko is (*on its own, this sounds like a woman's given name*), and Tasai clarifies that this is 'disaster prevention advisor Kaneko Tomio - age 65', not one of Hiranabe's girlfriends. Getting back on topic, Kaoru says Shibuya is pretty scary in that case. Joe says that if you were to take an xray of Tokyo's streets, it would look like papier mâché underneath, and he is pretty worried about the city. Tasai says that according to Kaneko san, its a miracle that no-one was killed in the Fukuoka incident, but if it happened in Tokyo, it would probably be much more serious, so vigilance is needed. Counter-measures include paying careful attention to bedrock, and fortifying the gound etc. The condition of the bedrock underground in Fukuoka is particularly uneven, which means sinkholes are likely to keep ocurring there. Kaoru and Joe think construction companies really need to up their vigilance in this matter, and pay more attention to safety.

Kaoru finished the show with various announcements. First he announces that extra dates have been added to the Kisou tour at Shinkiba Studio Coast on the 5th and 6th of Dec, 2016. Joe probably won't be able to attend though, as these are weekdays. Then he annouces the planned release of the first three Mode of tours on Dvd/Bluray, scheduled for release in March 2017, and also plugs the upcoming Mode of Uroboros tour. Next he announces the release of the 'Ugeee' effector which he made with the people at 'Weed'. He wanted a name for the product which contained a long 'e' sound, as in Weed, and eventually settled on 'Ugeee'. He then quickly reminds listeners about the Instagram campaign, and then finishes the show.

Songs - Dir en grey/Kigan, Korn/Here To Stay, Dir en grey/Utafumi.

To radio top

[autistic-ace-bee]

RAPUNZEL]

7 AM, the usual morning lineup

Start on the chores and sweep 'til the floor's all clean

Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up

Sweep again and by then it's like 7:15

And so I'll read a book, or maybe two or three

I'll add a few new paintings to my gallery

I'll play guitar and knit and cook and basically

Just wonder, when will my life begin?

Then after lunch, it's puzzles and darts and baking

Papier-mâché, a bit of ballet and chess

Pottery and ventriloquy, candle making

Then I'll stretch, maybe sketch

Take a climb, sew a dress

And I'll reread the books if I have time to spare

I'll paint the walls some more, I'm sure there's room somewhere

And then I'll brush and brush and brush and brush my hair

Stuck in the same place I've always been

And I'll keep wonderin' and wonderin'

And wonderin' and wonderin'

When will my life begin?

Tomorrow night, lights will appear

Just like they do on my birthday each year

What is it like out there where they glow?

Now that I'm older, Mother might just let me go

i had to pause what i was doing to sing this <3

[sunflowers-sins]

Slasher OC Info:

Name: Penny Winfield

Gender: Female (she/her)

Ethnicity: African-Italian-American

Height: 5’4

Weight: 134lbs

Slasher Era: somewhere between the Late 80’s-Mid 90’s

Physical appearance: long, curly hair that she usually wears in an Afro (calls it her “poof”), casual outfits are anything black but accommodates the Texas heat or black with pastel sundresses when she’s teaching the local kids, 3 large scars down her back and 2 on her back left thigh from a puma attack when she was 12, dark brown eyes, and dimple piercings (puts in fillers when teaching as per school district rules)

Occupation: preschool teacher/part-time personal trainer

Civilian personality: friendly, social, bubbly, can be a bit of an observer sometimes, kind

Hobbies: gardening, playing guitar, reading under a shady tree, volunteering at the local animal shelter

Likes: children, plants, guitar, horses, bees, teaching

Dislikes: rudeness, yelling, feeling anger, being alone

Slasher name: Sunflower

Slasher outfit: A yellow, 50’s style dress embroidered with a bumble bee across the front, yellow hair band that holds her hair back, and a homemade papier-mâché sunflower mask

Slasher personality: yandere to the max, possessive, sadistic, enjoys torturing her victims psychologically, the “Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” type personality

Slasher weapon-of-choice: 2 hand-held sickles or a chainsaw

First kill: first was the puma that attacked her in the woods, then immediately after was the man who tried to molest her after “helping” her, both at 12 years old

Body count: stopped counting after her 4th boyfriend tried to break up with her after 5 years of dating. Estimates anywhere between 10-14 people (all ex’s or abusers/rapists)

Bio:

Penny lived in the rural outskirts of Houston, Texas with her single father. As a young child, much of her life was spent in school or running around the Texan wilderness. According to her father, her mother died when she was giving birth to Penny. But other than that and a picture from before she was born, she knows very little of the woman who gave birth to her.

Around 10 years old, the 10th anniversaryof her mother’s death, her father became a belligerent drunk. She would spend many days, and even nights, in the wilderness outside her home. At 12 years old, lost and alone in the woods, Penny found herself hunted by a very hungry Puma. After trying to lose the beast in the woods and being backed into a corner, she took a large rock and smashed the creature’s head with it, although not without a few wounds of her own. Scared, lost, wounded, Penny limped in the direction that should’ve been her house. As she crept she ran into a trusted family friend, an uncle even, who offered to help her and return her to safety, only to try and deflower her against her will. Penny would then end the man’s life as she did the puma, leaving his corpse to be picked away by the forest creatures.

She would spend the next several years undergoing extensive physical and emotional abuse by her father. Her snapping point, was when she had found out he had arranged for attempted deflowering. That night she slit his throat while he laid drunk in his bed. That was also the night Sunflower first came out, a ray of sunshine in Penny’s dark world.

Several years and several bodies later, Penny now teaches at a small preschool in a rural town outside of Athens, Texas. She makes extra cash by doing physical therapy for a few of the rich folks in Dallas. She has yet to find love, a home, or a family of her own. But that doesn’t dim the ray of hope inside of her; Sunflower.

Tags: Sunflower Imagine, Penny Imagine, Sunflower x Reader, Penny x Reader

[thedespairzone]

The Enigma of Roger Roundhead

I’m pretty sure I was their biggest fan since the beginning. When I first saw them performing, they were busking in Bristol’s shopping district. It really is a nice city, and the amount of young, fresh-faced musicians you see on the street adds to its endearing appeal. You’ll find all sorts of singers and songwriters trying their luck with the public.

One Saturday, I was out with a friend. We were on our way to grab a bite to eat, and there they were. The strangest sight I had seen all day. Three men busking - something that would have usually been a normal occurrence. I barely even noticed the other two, the frontman was so uniquely captivating that I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t take my eyes from him. There he stood, playing an acoustic guitar. From his neck downwards, there didn’t seem anything out of the ordinary about him - brown boots, cargos, vest, average build. But then there was his head. What looked to be a great, big, white papier-mâché ball. Some sort of gimmick, I thought; despite that I found it utterly enthralling.

With an accompanying banjo and a cajon, the trio sang away. My friend pulled at my arm, but I stayed still, paying an intense attention to the band. The humdrum of a passing group obscured my focus, and I came to.

“Yeah, sorry, just watching the buskers.”

I saw a cardboard sign on the floor. Written in a thick, black marker were the words Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen. I repeated the name out loud with a child-like curiosity.

“Fitting name.” My friend laughed. “Right, I’m starving, shall we get going?”

We went and got some food from the market stands, but still I couldn’t remove the image of Roger Roundhead from my mind.

When I later searched their name, I could find little about them. I found it strange that such an interesting performance didn’t have an online presence. There were no videos on YouTube, and no songs on Spotify. So I decided I had to follow them, to see their music, to have more than a thirty second glimpse. I was hooked.

I went to town on my own the following Saturday, in hopes that they’d be busking in the same spot. As luck would have it, they were. Playing the same song that I had heard before, this time I was able to sit down and listen properly to the whole thing.

It wasn’t even my sort of music, if I’m completely honest. It felt a little too political for my liking, and the rhythms and melodies weren’t particularly different to anything I had heard before. If anything, it was a little repetitive. But still, I tried not to blink for fear of missing as much as a second of Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen. Something about Roger unfalteringly drew me in, as if I was being compelled to simply sit and observe him. The song finished, and I looked around. Dotted about were a small number of other people who were equally invested in the group of buskers. After performing only a few songs, Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen packed up their belongings and left.

I watched them busk on a number of occasions, and quickly became familiar with all of their songs. Still, I was never able to discover an online presence - until I found out that they would be performing at a small venue called The Fleece. Though it wasn’t their own online presence, they were mentioned by another local band. Some friends were fans of them, and were already going to the concert. I instantly decided to tag along when the band stated that Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen would be opening for them.

Their opening performance was much like their busking performances. It had the exact same format, and they played the same songs. Still, I was unable to turn away from Roger. My friends were divided in opinion - half of them just wanted the main band to perform, the others were as captivated by the opening act as I was. And so I went on, going to concerts simply because Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen were the opening act. Performing at a number of different venues, I followed them as far as Cardiff. And then, they returned to Bristol, to perform at The Marble Factory. This time, however, would be their first time as a headlining act.

***

It was a Saturday night, and the place was packed. We stood like sardines, pressed against one another, clambering to reach the front beside the stage. I was lucky enough to get a front row view. I was with two of my friends - Will and Theo. They were the ones who were as equally fascinated by the band as I was at that first concert they opened at.

“When are they gonna start?” Will anxiously peered onto the stage. “I hate it when bands are late.”

By the time I had looked at Will, and looked back at the stage, the Trashmen were positioned ready to perform. Roger Roundhead was yet to show himself. Instead of their usual banjo and cajon, the Trashmen were equipped with a more standard drum kit and bass guitar. As we patiently waited, smoke filled the stage, and the lights dimmed. The blackness gave way to silent excitement. The crowed waited with anticipation. As if to treat us to an appetiser, strobe lights flashed. And shortly after, out emerged that familiar round head - the main course. Like a disco ball, the strobe lights seemed to bounce from him. Roger Roundhead brandished a new guitar; black and white circles rippled outwards sequentially from its centre. Cheers burst from the crowd, but soon were dulled into silence as Roger raised a finger to his round head.

“Shhhhh.”

As silence befell the venue, he began to play. The strobe lights flashed in time with the beats. The same riff, over and over. The drums rhythmically repeating a backing line, the bass reiterating the guitar’s melody. A continuous line, incessant repetition, I found myself mesmerised. I stared at Roger, at his guitar. The circles felt like they were moving. Roger bobbed in time with his playing. The smoke cleared, but the strobe lights pressed onwards with a lightning speed. Then Roger Roundhead began to sing.

His voice was masked by numerous strange vocal effects, but it was still distinctly him. Regardless, it was nothing like the music I had heard them play while busking. He swayed his hips forwards and backwards with each note of the rhythm. The distorted vocals droned, and took a backseat to the repeating melody. Over and over the notes repeated an enchanting hex, words that I couldn’t make out worming their way into my mind. Not of my own volition, I felt myself swaying with the rest of the crowd. Seeds of Roger Roundhead’s words planted themselves in my head. I watched them play, waving, swaying, leaning forwards past the barrier that guarded the stage.

Roger Roundhead plucked a final note, and we were thrust into darkness.

***

Echoes of light peppered my vision, though never truly lit the way. I called out to my friends, but made no sound. The little lights resonated with my intended vocalisations, seemingly responding to the noise I was trying to make.

“Hello?” I didn’t say.

Two lights blinked one after the other.

“Who’s there?”

A flurry of lights flickered and flashed - I spun around in place, watching the strobe orbs that surrounded me. Some were a warm glow of orange that phased in and out of blackness, others a pleasant green that jittered about, and a few were a soothing purple that would rise and sink. I swivelled and stumbled, searching for any indication of what was happening, searching for my friends. I was only met with more lights. As I waded through the glowing waters of the space around me, bioluminescence splashed in place, those little lights bouncing from my body. Like tiny fireflies with no weight, no form, the lights flittered about my person until I stopped moving.

“Hello?” I didn’t call out, again.

Two lights blinked one after the other, again.

“Hello!” I tried to shout.

The same lights blinked.

“What’s going on?”

The lights formed a line forwards, flashing in sequence, the ripples of a glowing array pointing me in a direction. I followed the path set before me, that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. I trudged along, for no longer than thirty seconds, before I began to feel myself lifted up. I spun around, and below me were a series of lights, carrying me upon their formless selves. They raised me further, until I was met with a small circle. Again, more little lights, though this time they were white. I passed through the circle.

Passing the threshold, I felt myself accelerating. I saw lights beginning to pass by me, faster and faster, until they all formed a single blur around me. I began to shout, feelings of fear sloshed around and mixed together with adrenaline and ecstasy. Faster. Faster. I kept accelerating. A warping, wobbling, winding tunnel formed around me, spiralling smaller and smaller, into a thin tube. I reached an unimaginable velocity, and passed through the ever-narrowing pin-prick exit.

A painted world surrounded me, a sky of oils and watercolours, a mixed media painting that splattered and slurried vastly, trickling with wet whites and drying blues. Velvet hills of rolling green, with a smattering of flowers waving in time to a familiar rhythm. The music, it played still - Roger Roundhead performed. The lights danced with precise, rhythmic intentions. And at the centre of it all, Roger and his bandmates. I felt my form slip away, and watched my body return through the pin-prick entrance to this painted world. Sucked violently backwards, it flew. Then there I was; a little green light. Happy, content, and perfectly in time, I danced carelessly and unthinkingly.

I spent no longer than an evening, enjoying the music, enjoying the company of my shapeless compatriots, before a great typhoon whisked the world up, and a tremendous mash of lights and painted hills were washed away. And then there I was, in my body, laid in the same darkness as before. I stood up. I tried to walk forwards again, but tripped over something. I tumbled onto a soft surface, and, as I broke the fall with my hands, felt that it was a person. I pushed myself back up. I felt shuffling around me. Other people were rising. A confused murmur reverberated around me, and I participated in the crowd’s muttering.

The venue lights flashed on, and I saw before me an empty stage. A crowd of dazed people wobbled to their feet, and I scanned the room for my friends. I was aware of how thirsty I was, how stuffy the room was. It was hard to breathe, and I could see other people experiencing the same discomfort that I was feeling. Amidst the fray, I did not see my friends, but found my way to the exit. I gasped for air as I fell into a flowing street, the waves of people exiting the building dragged me into the fury of the blistering midday sun.

Wasn’t it night-time?

I scratched my head, trying to work out exactly how long the night had lasted, and whether everyone else had experienced what I had. The details of the painted world were fuzzy, fading in and out of my memory. It was like trying to remember a dream. The more I thought of it, the further it slipped away from me. I took my phone from my pocket, intending to check the time. The battery was dead. I took a bus home, grabbed a glass of water, and put my phone on charge.

I had fifty-seven missed calls, a plethora of text messages, and was inundated with social media notifications.

“Are you ok?”

“Where are you?”

“What’s going on?”

“Call me please.”

Voice mails from my parents and friends, all concerned as to where I was. It wouldn’t have been the first time I stayed out all night, it shouldn’t have been an issue. Then, my mum walked through the door. As soon as she saw me, she ran towards me, hitting me with a whirlwind of emotions; crying, shouting, hugging me, hitting me. When I nonchalantly asked her what the problem was, her jaw was agape.

She explained that I had been missing for three months. She had reported me missing to the police. My friends had been reporting missing too. I was still in a state of confusion, and my Mother’s babbling words didn’t help. I had been gone for an evening, not three months. Little anxious ideas raced around in my head, bouncing from wall to wall within my skull. It was possible that I had been spiked with something, and that I was still under the influence of it. I had been gone for an evening, I went to a concert. I hadn’t been gone for three months. I knew that, but my mother - if it was really her - didn’t. I tried to focus, to see if I could wake up from whatever this was. But I couldn’t.

Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen disappeared. I didn’t hear of any more performances by them, it’s almost as if they never existed. Maybe they’re still in the painted world, but I wouldn’t know. Everyone says I was missing for three months, and I tell them I don’t remember anything. My friends and I agreed to say that whenever anyone asked, but we still talk about that evening amongst ourselves. We have theories about it, but I know that we won’t ever come to a solid conclusion. At the end of it all, all we can do is reminisce, and hope that we can go back - just for an evening.

[skmerrill3]

STEPHANIE K MERRILL

 

The Tao of Remembrance

The next time we meet may be in your grandmother’s garden

she so proud of her hydrangeas as big as dinner plates as blue as a Texas sky.

In an instant you will remember joy in the earth

when we paddled a canoe on the clear lakes of Canada.

Or maybe the next time we meet you will be driving your car

with the guitar of Carlos Santana screaming.

The little gods that live inside song will step outside

leading you home because the circle knows where to find you.

I like to think that when we sleep we transform

into angels in the watery fugue of dreams.

We convene there in reunion cheering each other on

doubled over in laughter at some joke we share

or maybe sobbing in sorrow huddled around a campfire.

Either way, we journey through our tender nights together.

During the days we seem to move farther and farther apart

but never quite vanishing.

Everything good between us is written in the sanctity of now.

We meet where snow falls from the sky like papier-mâché, a blanket for old trees.

We meet in the eyes of a dying cat who has found comfort

in a pile of dirty laundry in the dark of the closet.

We meet where light slivers the night and says trust me.

We gather in love’s DNA

which is The Universe

more learned than

the holy sutras of winter

and greener than all

bright days in June.

Together we have built this place among us.

It is a fortress.

A rock.

A whole quarry.

Because we are here.

Stephanie K Merrill taught writing to teenagers for many years, and has recently retired as English faculty at Elgin Academy, a liberal arts school outside of Chicago. Currently she lives in Austin, Texas.

[fericita-s]

Counselor Talent Show

Thank you @broadwaybaggins​ for creating this Mercy Street Summer Camp AU, letting me come join the fun and giving this an encouraging preview, and as always to @the-spastic-fantastic​ for beta-ing!

Henry peeked his head around the door, hands over his eyes.  “Everyone decent?”

“It’s just me! And yes!”

Henry entered the small dressing room to find Emma, two pens stuck into a messy bun on the top of her head, surrounded by racks of clothes labeled by act for the Counselor Talent Show. He tried not to let his eyes linger, but he liked when she wore her hair like that.  Her neck was beautiful. He cleared his throat.

“Just came to see if you needed any help. It’s raining again, so Byron has the boys parked in front of some VHS copy of The Parent Trap. I think the sheer novelty of the primitive technology has them captivated.” Henry bent down to pick up a stretchy piece of black fabric and then straightened, handing it to Emma. “Here.  Looks like your…” he puzzled over it, “Headband?”

Emma took it grimacing.  “Alice’s skirt actually.  For playing Sandy.  She and Frank lip sync the number from the end of Grease every year. Though this is the first year she sent me a YouTube tutorial on how to apply eyeliner, subject line ‘Practice on yourself so it’s perfect for me.’”

Henry laughed, relinquishing the smallest skirt he had ever seen with a flourish to Emma’s outstretched hand.  He tried not to be obviously thrilled when their fingers touched.  “I understand now why Byron was trying to convince Sam, Jed, and me that doing a Magic Mike routine wouldn’t have been inappropriate.”

Emma looked for the right hanger for the Sandy skirt and smiled at him over her shoulder. “You could have put those feather boas to use!”

He laughed again, picturing it.  “Sounds fun, but it might not be the best choice for a divinity student to dance half-naked in a room full of minors.”

“I think you were wise to choose the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Though I don’t know how well you’ll be able to play-fight in these turtle shells.  We should probably do a run-through before next week. And since you’re here, let me fit you for it now.” She ran her hand over the papier-mâché turtle shell, a project he’d seen her working on in the arts cabin with a roomful of second graders who had more fun painting themselves green than the shell-shaped lumps.   He looked at her fingers – were they green from the paint?

Her eyes went to her hands and he internally kicked himself for being so obvious in staring.  “They stained the undersides of my fingernails green so I painted the rest to match, just to hide the stubborn paint, but now I feel like people are giving me pitying glances for having a little too much camp spirit – Emma Green, Theater and Arts Director at Camp Green Wood, with the green nail polish. Maybe tomorrow I’ll dye my hair green too.”

“I’m sure no one thinks that.  Maybe the four turtles should paint our nails too.  Do you still have the polish?”

They exchanged a laugh and Henry examined the shells and the colorful masks pinned to each one. “I’m not sure Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are still cool.  The boys seem to mostly talk about Super Smash Brothers and Minecraft.”

“Which one are you? Michelangelo? Donatello? Actually, that won’t help me.  I just need to know if you’re orange, blue, red, or purple.”

“Orange.  Nunchucks.  I think that’s Michelangelo.”

Emma took the orange mask and the accompanying shell off of the hanger. 

 “Ready?”

“Yes ma’am.” Henry turned around and she gently lowered the shell over his head.  The fit was like wearing a sandwich board and Henry wondered if he’d feel as ridiculous play fighting as a turtle as he had while advertising for his youth group’s car wash with a car-shaped sandwich board enticing passing motorists to pull into the Boston Market parking lot and let a bunch of teenagers clean their luxury vehicles. Emma pulled at the straps on the side and lifted his arms up and down.

“The fit’s good.  Looks like you can move in it, definitely should be able to defeat…whoever it is Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles defeat.  Here, let me try the mask next.”

She stood behind him and he could feel her breath on his neck,then the orange mask covered his eyes and he adjusted it until the eye holes lined up.

“Does that work?” She turned him toward herself and he wished he could have felt her hands on his chest rather than having several layers of cardboard between them.

“Yes, I can see out of it.”  He slid the mask down and undid the knot, passing it back to Emma to be hung up again.  She was meticulous about organizing.  You would have thought the costumes were of life-saving importance the way she logged and inventoried them.  It was impressive.  He loosened the side straps on the shell and lifted it over his head, handing it back to Emma. 

“The fourth-grade boys will love it anyway.  At least the part where we bring pizza into the audience. I hope.  What are you performing in the show?”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Anne informed Mary and me that we’re doing the Single Ladies dance, and as soon as I had a written promise that we wouldn’t be wearing a version of her Union Jack bikini, I agreed.  Mary had the brilliant idea that we do it in pajamas like we’re being silly at a sleepover, so that’s the plan.”

“That sounds great.  I hear you were on the dance team – I’m sure you three will actually bring some talent to this talent show.”

“Maybe, but Sam and Charlotte are going to sing Unforgettable, and that will definitely be the best of the evening.  I’m not sure that song has ever been done on a guitar before but if anyone can turn it acoustic and absolutely render us all speechless with their musicality, it’s them.”

Byron barged in just then, eyes frantic.  “Henry! They’ve mutinied.  They’re calling it a girls’ movie.  We’ve got to find something else to do with them.”

Emma raised an eyebrow.  “I think we have the 1990 version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on VHS too.  Want me to look?”

Byron groaned. “Hasn’t anything at this camp been purchased this century?” 

Henry put his arm around Byron and led him to the door. “We can do a rain hike.  There’s no thunder, we’ll be fine.” He turned to look at Emma as they left, waving to her, and wishing that Anne’s desire for a bikini had won out over Mary’s plan for pajamas.

[thechairmandances]

#nyc is grand