Nemesis
Oct 29th, 2002, 10:32:23 PM
"Thank you, and good night!" shouted an oddly dressed musician, as the deafening tones of guitar and drum fell silent only to be replaced by the elated roars bolstered by a frenzied mob of fans.
After a few moments of almost intolerable volume, the crowd ceased as well. Some made their way to scattered tables and seats surrounding the oval dance floor. Others, however, chose to remain at their post; choosing only to move if it meant finding a spot nearer the stage. Yet, whether they returned or stayed one binding factor dominated the mind set of all present: anticipation.
Nemesis lifted his glass, now almost completely drained of tea, and slowly sipped away while keeping a constant vigil over the vacant, stone stage. The drink: his third; the hour: 3:00 a.m., he had waited patiently in the same chair at the same, center table, within a darkened amphitheater for more than five hours.
It was undeniable, the assassin was intrigued by this concept of unity through song. Though this was the first venture he had ever made to such an establishment, the hunter had heard a great deal about the bonding effects of music; in particular a style called....Rock.
One piece could speak a myriad of messages to an innumerable audience, but possessed the talents to unite as well as diversify its listeners. Moreover, he had not found exactly what granted this music such properties, and did not intend to leave without some answers to an ever increasing accumulation of questions.
The house lights dimmed, recently docile fans reclaimed there rowdy heritage, and the next band took its place on stage.
After a few moments of almost intolerable volume, the crowd ceased as well. Some made their way to scattered tables and seats surrounding the oval dance floor. Others, however, chose to remain at their post; choosing only to move if it meant finding a spot nearer the stage. Yet, whether they returned or stayed one binding factor dominated the mind set of all present: anticipation.
Nemesis lifted his glass, now almost completely drained of tea, and slowly sipped away while keeping a constant vigil over the vacant, stone stage. The drink: his third; the hour: 3:00 a.m., he had waited patiently in the same chair at the same, center table, within a darkened amphitheater for more than five hours.
It was undeniable, the assassin was intrigued by this concept of unity through song. Though this was the first venture he had ever made to such an establishment, the hunter had heard a great deal about the bonding effects of music; in particular a style called....Rock.
One piece could speak a myriad of messages to an innumerable audience, but possessed the talents to unite as well as diversify its listeners. Moreover, he had not found exactly what granted this music such properties, and did not intend to leave without some answers to an ever increasing accumulation of questions.
The house lights dimmed, recently docile fans reclaimed there rowdy heritage, and the next band took its place on stage.