Lyric
Definition
2 a : expressing direct usually intense personal emotion especially in a manner suggestive of song
3 of an opera singer : having a light voice and a melodic style
One of the (many) downsides of my job in particular was that I couldn't tell anyone normal what it
was I actually did for a living. You'd think it would be rather easy to just brush off the question with the
simple answer of 'I'm a musician'.
was I actually did for a living. You'd think it would be rather easy to just brush off the question with the
simple answer of 'I'm a musician'.
Apparently not.
'Oh so you're a musician, what type of music do you play? Are you in a band? Are you famous?
You should start your own YouTube channel - promote yourself more. How much do you earn?
Can you really sustain yourself on a wage an unknown musician makes?”
You should start your own YouTube channel - promote yourself more. How much do you earn?
Can you really sustain yourself on a wage an unknown musician makes?”
And the most dreaded question of all time - 'Can I hear you play?'
I sighed as I ran the stock scanner over another unsold packet of 'Children's Happy Play Time Prunes'
and looked around the warehouse, the seemingly endless as yet unchecked pile of stock looming
around me.
and looked around the warehouse, the seemingly endless as yet unchecked pile of stock looming
around me.
The answer to the previous questions are as follows:
What type of music do I play?
I sing and I usually accompany myself with a variant of piano music on my trusty electric keyboard
from a wide selection of different genres. I generally do covers (lots of requests for that) and very, very
occasionally I sing my own stuff.
from a wide selection of different genres. I generally do covers (lots of requests for that) and very, very
occasionally I sing my own stuff.
Am I in a band?
No, although of course I have colleagues in the same profession as myself - some might even be
called friends but unless there are dire circumstances, I am strictly a solo act. My music does not mesh
well with others.
called friends but unless there are dire circumstances, I am strictly a solo act. My music does not mesh
well with others.
Am I famous?
Only in some, quite select, circles. You definitely would not have heard of me.
Do I have a YouTube Channel?
Yes in the grey Web and it's a site you'll never be able to access unless under certain, very specific
conditions and it's really not worth trying to meet those conditions if you only want to hear me perform.
conditions and it's really not worth trying to meet those conditions if you only want to hear me perform.
How much do I earn? Can I support myself on my wage?
Obviously not, otherwise why else would I be working in this stock taking hell. it sure wasn't for the
scintillating conversation and dazzling social life aspects - I could barely spot the other stock takers in
the far off distance. They weren't even within shouting range.
scintillating conversation and dazzling social life aspects - I could barely spot the other stock takers in
the far off distance. They weren't even within shouting range.
The last and worst question, the question that had sent most of my dates off in an understandable huff
once they realised I was sincere in my answer and would not budge.
once they realised I was sincere in my answer and would not budge.
Can I hear you play?
No, only the dead can listen to me play. Never the living as they can't handle it.
That isn't some sort of boastful hyperbole either - nor was it a knock against my own skills. I was a good
musician. maybe not talented enough for super stardom but good enough that, had I been normal,
then I could have made a decent living out of it.
musician. maybe not talented enough for super stardom but good enough that, had I been normal,
then I could have made a decent living out of it.
However, my skills weren't normal.
The night of my first primary school play, the lead had fallen sick with an attack of stage fright and the
teachers had asked, in a sort of barely suppressed panic, if any of us knew the words to the song.
teachers had asked, in a sort of barely suppressed panic, if any of us knew the words to the song.
I bravely volunteered. I have mouthed along to the lyrics with every rehearsal. I knew them by heart
and I had been cursing my cowardly nature this whole time for not auditioning when I'd had the chance
to, back when they were casting the play.
and I had been cursing my cowardly nature this whole time for not auditioning when I'd had the chance
to, back when they were casting the play.
This, my little six year old self, was clearly a sign from God, saying it was my chance to sing my little
heart out and achieve my destiny.
heart out and achieve my destiny.
Thinking back, it could indeed have been a sign from God - it just wasn't the message I'd been hoping
for.
for.
I got through the first verse of the opening song before every student, teacher, parent and staff member
collapsed unconscious. the only people left standing were myself, my confused and freaked out
parents and the cleaner who was front row centre and applauding. he'd also passed away from a
sudden heart attack the previous week. I clearly recalled that we had held a remembrance assembly
for him a couple of days ago.
collapsed unconscious. the only people left standing were myself, my confused and freaked out
parents and the cleaner who was front row centre and applauding. he'd also passed away from a
sudden heart attack the previous week. I clearly recalled that we had held a remembrance assembly
for him a couple of days ago.
none of the audience woke up for a week and for months after they were twitchy, prone to hearing
things and seeing things that weren't there and all of them slept with the lights on. many developed
depression and most insomnia. The scare few tapes of me singing (there's always at least one parent
with a camcorder) went down as 'cursed tapes' in urban legends due to the completely distorted
sounds emanating from them and the weird flickers and shadows that dart across the screen,
sometimes completely obscuring the view of the stage,sometimes highlighting the fact that there
seems to be a vortex of light and shadows swirling around me.
things and seeing things that weren't there and all of them slept with the lights on. many developed
depression and most insomnia. The scare few tapes of me singing (there's always at least one parent
with a camcorder) went down as 'cursed tapes' in urban legends due to the completely distorted
sounds emanating from them and the weird flickers and shadows that dart across the screen,
sometimes completely obscuring the view of the stage,sometimes highlighting the fact that there
seems to be a vortex of light and shadows swirling around me.
Safe to say, my popularity plummeted. We moved cities shortly afterward.
Sadly, not far enough to escape the various parties interested in my powers. Over the years, my
parents have entertained various government officials, cult leaders, evil organisations, mutant
vigilantes, ghost hunters and scientists, all wanting to take me away and try to harness my so called
power for their own purposes.
parents have entertained various government officials, cult leaders, evil organisations, mutant
vigilantes, ghost hunters and scientists, all wanting to take me away and try to harness my so called
power for their own purposes.
Neither my parents, nor I were having any of it. if the people got too pushy, I'd simply open my mouth
and sing. We'd put their unconscious body out on the front lawn and wait for one of their colleagues
to come pick them up.
and sing. We'd put their unconscious body out on the front lawn and wait for one of their colleagues
to come pick them up.
my powers only got stronger as I got older - no longer did my voice simply give you bad dreams.
I thought, although I've never been certain as my voice does not work on myself, that it shows you the
abyss.
I thought, although I've never been certain as my voice does not work on myself, that it shows you the
abyss.
And not only would I cause those pushy peddlers deep psychological scars, the ghosts themselves
liked me. this was why those varies agencies kept pushing me - they thought I could control ghosts
and gain all sorts of powers and abilities that way. spying I think was the favoured option, and finding
out things that normal spies couldn't.
liked me. this was why those varies agencies kept pushing me - they thought I could control ghosts
and gain all sorts of powers and abilities that way. spying I think was the favoured option, and finding
out things that normal spies couldn't.
But, as I tried to explain over and over again, I couldn't control ghosts. They just liked me is all. They
wouldn't do anything I asked (and laughed in my face if I gave them anything like an order) but, in their
own way, they did look out for me. They did not like anyone messing with me.
wouldn't do anything I asked (and laughed in my face if I gave them anything like an order) but, in their
own way, they did look out for me. They did not like anyone messing with me.
Anyone who did was subject to a hard-core haunting from multiple different ghosts who would descend
on them with an unholy wrath who would not stop until whoever had upset me was terrified enough
to piss blood.
on them with an unholy wrath who would not stop until whoever had upset me was terrified enough
to piss blood.
This went on for several years, until I reached secondary school age. At school, I met the son of a
priest whom, through no fault of my own I would point out, heard me sing, passed out and woke up
with some supernatural abilities, in that, he too, could see ghosts. He reasoned that my voice was so
popular with the dead (and not the living) because it reached the dad's wavelength. He reasoned that
the dead were on one wavelength and the living another. Therefore, since the effects of the living, sad
melodies, power ballads and love songs would no longer affect them in the same way, they wouldn't be
able to feel the emotion that they generated or couldn't connect with it as they were no longer part of
the living. It would just seem like static to them.
priest whom, through no fault of my own I would point out, heard me sing, passed out and woke up
with some supernatural abilities, in that, he too, could see ghosts. He reasoned that my voice was so
popular with the dead (and not the living) because it reached the dad's wavelength. He reasoned that
the dead were on one wavelength and the living another. Therefore, since the effects of the living, sad
melodies, power ballads and love songs would no longer affect them in the same way, they wouldn't be
able to feel the emotion that they generated or couldn't connect with it as they were no longer part of
the living. It would just seem like static to them.
However, just because you had passed over, didn;'t mean that you lost all interest in music. My singing
voice was clearly on the dead's wavelength so for the first time in ages (sometimes decades) they
could hear music again.
voice was clearly on the dead's wavelength so for the first time in ages (sometimes decades) they
could hear music again.
My odd talent, oddly enough, wasn't unique - there were others like me, but we were few and far
between and therefore I was insanely popular with the dead.
between and therefore I was insanely popular with the dead.
In all honesty, I would have preferred to be popular amongst the living - at least making a wage would
have been a lot easier. But I liked my dead fans. They were considerate, only stalked me mildly and I
hadn't been seriously harassed or robbed or assaulted in years. I appreciated them.
have been a lot easier. But I liked my dead fans. They were considerate, only stalked me mildly and I
hadn't been seriously harassed or robbed or assaulted in years. I appreciated them.
Which was why I spent a lot of my evenings and weekends in abandoned houses. The people at work
thought I had one of those hobbies where you go round and explore places that have gone back to
nature. Since this was a pretty good cover I didn't contradict them.
thought I had one of those hobbies where you go round and explore places that have gone back to
nature. Since this was a pretty good cover I didn't contradict them.
***
The night was cold and bitter and I shivered in my puffy jacket. I had hand warmers in my pockets, their
little jellied packets keeping my fingers from freezing, but white clouds of my breath were drifting in
front of my face.
little jellied packets keeping my fingers from freezing, but white clouds of my breath were drifting in
front of my face.
The house in front of me was old and wrecked - maybe early victorian? Whatever it was it was sagging
under the weight of years and climbing ivy. I walked up the front steps, being careful to avoid the
crumbling edges. The door opened silently under my touch. The ghosts must have oiled the hinges
somehow, not wanting to alert anyone to my presence here. It was bad when people followed me.
under the weight of years and climbing ivy. I walked up the front steps, being careful to avoid the
crumbling edges. The door opened silently under my touch. The ghosts must have oiled the hinges
somehow, not wanting to alert anyone to my presence here. It was bad when people followed me.
The house inside was just as damp and defeated. I peeked in the front room, curtains that were more
mildew that fabric dangling from the curtain rails, various dead leaves strewn about the floor from a
crack somewhere in the room. I wrinkled my nose, some sort of animal must have been using here as a
temporary base as it stank of musk and urine.
mildew that fabric dangling from the curtain rails, various dead leaves strewn about the floor from a
crack somewhere in the room. I wrinkled my nose, some sort of animal must have been using here as a
temporary base as it stank of musk and urine.
I decided to set up in the entrance way - that was if the house did at last give into its inevitable descent,
I was right by an escape route.
I was right by an escape route.
I set up my trusty keyboard with its portable generator - no where I went had electricity so I quickly
invested in one of these.
invested in one of these.
I discovered early on that my talent transferred itself to any instrument I choose to play. It would have
exactly the same effect as when I sang, even if I wasn't singing along at the time.
exactly the same effect as when I sang, even if I wasn't singing along at the time.
I chose the keyboard as my instrument of choice as I could play a wide variety of musical types on it
and it accompanied my voice pretty well. Plus the ghosts seemed to like the plain black and white of
the keys. The stark contrast of the colours seemed to soothe them somehow.
and it accompanied my voice pretty well. Plus the ghosts seemed to like the plain black and white of
the keys. The stark contrast of the colours seemed to soothe them somehow.
The keyboard itself was covered with talismans, wards and good luck charms - all against the undead.
It was sort of a running joke amongst the ghosts. They liked to bring me these as a gift. I'm not sure
why. Maybe just to point out that such things were completely ineffective against them and that there
was no way I could get rid of them? Or maybe because they thought they were pretty? Or maybe just
because they thought it was funny to give anti-ghost charms to someone who sang only for the dead.
It was sort of a running joke amongst the ghosts. They liked to bring me these as a gift. I'm not sure
why. Maybe just to point out that such things were completely ineffective against them and that there
was no way I could get rid of them? Or maybe because they thought they were pretty? Or maybe just
because they thought it was funny to give anti-ghost charms to someone who sang only for the dead.
My money was on number three. After being so long dead, some of the ghosts kind of developed a
rather odd and incomprehensible sense of humor.
rather odd and incomprehensible sense of humor.
But I liked my gifts and I liked the way they decorated my keyboard, even if it did sometimes get me
weird looks in the outside world.
weird looks in the outside world.
I finished setting up and then started slapping on the various heat packs I'd bought with me. Once I
started playing I sometimes got completely absorbed in it and I did not want to end up in the hospital
again with borderline hypothermia.
started playing I sometimes got completely absorbed in it and I did not want to end up in the hospital
again with borderline hypothermia.
I sat at my stool and raised my fingers, I glanced up and saw the house was already filling with ghosts,
pouring through the walls, hanging from the ceiling, coming up from the floor. There, front and center
as always, was my primary school cleaner.
pouring through the walls, hanging from the ceiling, coming up from the floor. There, front and center
as always, was my primary school cleaner.
I smiled, dropped my hands to the black and white keys and began to sing the songs of the dead.
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