He is Gone

the power of a tune

Sliding in at the 11th hour with a story that has been sat in my head for 3-4 days.

It is loosely based on Mountain Jam, this week’s Stories From The Jukebox prompt I’d never heard the tune before and was a bit reluctant to do anything but this story kept brewing. So I’m sharing it so I can sleep without it tonight

He is Gone/Mountain Jam

She stood in the field and gazed across the sea of heads at the band in the distance. She didn’t care much who they were. She’d only come to the festival because her flatmate had refused to leave her home alone.

Her head was buzzing with memories and hurts and pains and things she had to do. First there was a mountain, but then now there was no mountain because she had got rid of him. But then there was another mountain. Each time she got rid of one mountain it seemed like another one, bigger, steeper, more domineering of her vista appeared. She was tired. The sun was shining. She felt it on her skin but it didn’t reach further than skin deep. With all she had been through these last few weeks she was chilled to her marrow by it. The summer sun was not warm enough to penetrate the coldness inside.

Her friends had drifted to the front. They said they loved this band though really they were bored with her sorrow, bored with how she didn’t smile readily any more. And when she did smile it scared them slightly.

The band, whose name she could not remember, took up a riff she thought she recognised. That riff that led into another and into another moving further from the original song. On the huge monitors she saw the guitarist smile toward the bassist, saw the drummer smile to himself, watched the eyes of the guitarist close as he allowed the music to take over. Each member of the group played from the heart. Each heart was in sync with the others. She felt something move inside her. She thought she was going to be sick. Her stomach lurch but all that came out her mouth was a sound she’d not heard herself make in a long time. Not since Noel had moved in with her and slowly destroyed her creativity and her dreams.

She turned to the stranger next to her and said, “he’s gone.” The stranger smiled back at her and handed her a joint. Together they shared the spliff till it was gone.

“Go girl,” said the stranger as she walked away. “You’ve got it covered.”

As she watched the stranger go she laughed again. Her head thrown back. Her hair shaking and cascading around her shoulders. It was then that she not only saw but felt the many mountains tumble around her. Soon there were no mountains at all.

When the band finished their half hour or more jamming session she was dancing and spinning because she was truly free. Free like the music. Free to just connect and be.

Instead of going to find her friends she walked back to her tent alone, opened her notebook and penned her first poem since he had walked into her life. He was really gone.

=================================================================

These posts are free but you are welcome to Buy Me a Coffee or similar