Last Chance

We called ourselves Last Chance. We had five members: my two brothers, two of our close friends, and me. We were in high school. This was before my older brother’s high and tight haircut, before his hair was regulated by the Marines. My brothers and I had long, hippie hair — perfect for head-banging.

This is what I remember happening at an average band practice: My older brother would drive us over to John and Buddy’s house (they had the drum set and amplifier). After we talked a little, we descend into the basement: our musical laboratory.

We plugged in our instruments, cord jacks sliding into the correct sockets. A low buzzing of feedback filled the basement. Green lights glowing like a sci-fi film on the amplifier.

And when everyone was ready, Buddy cracked his drum sticks together to start the song. I felt adrenaline tingling in my chest, my body responding to my nervousness. My brothers thrashed their guitars, amplifiers barking from the distorted guitars. I felt the riffs in my chest cavity, and I’m sure a deaf person could tell we were playing. John stood by the chipped, white washer machine, neck bent over his bass and plucking the thick cords.

The microphone was cold and smooth in my hand. I didn’t look at the lyrics clipped to a spidery, metal music stand in front of me. I sensed the start of the verse, and I launched into lyrics. The words poured out, harsh consonants adding force to the lyrics.

“The beast is coming and we’ll all go running/And the few who survive will soon be by his side/Oh, the rapture’s coming and none of us are running/‘Cause we know where we’ll be for all eternity!”

After I screamed “eternity,” Buddy launched into a fast and loud drum solo: he pounded the snare drum then struck both crash cymbals. Simultaneously, my older brother started a fast, almost frantic, guitar part. He frowned down at the neck of the guitar as he coaxed out the notes.

“The end is coming and people are running/But they can’t hide ’cause it’s the end times!”

This was Last Chance’s favorite song, and we loved jamming to it. We had sculpted this song from some lyrics into a fully-conceived rock song. When I performed this song, there was a profound fulfillment when I hit the last note and realized: I totally nailed it.

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  1. What did you think about the writing?

    Was there enough scene details? Should have been more background information?

  2. Hello. fantastic job. I did not anticipate this. This is a fantastic story. Thanks!

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