Chapter 1: One Night in October

One Night In October...

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King Tuts’s walls were trembling in unison to the band members’ ears. The massive cheering made any other sound come between either inaudible or a barely comprehensible whisper; the boys had done it again. Another amazing show had been given to their beloved fans; whose cheers and whistles had grown noticeably overzealous. Mickey, from his spot in front of the stage, had a clear view of their grins threatening to rip their faces, the hands swarming in random directions whilst their feet patted the sticky floor, which was now covered in sweat, water and booze.

It was probably mostly booze.

The Little Comets had come a long way from where they currently stood. Having grown up in Newcastle, England, the boys had thrived in what they called ‘living’. Their definition of the word meant ‘playing lots of music and having lots of fun’, which they made sure to literally apply in every circumstance, be it a gig or a simple tram ride. Unfortunately, as any group’s debut, let us say that their budget issues were a tad amount too large to fathom neglecting, yet they carried on anyway. They just loved to play and join with everyone dancing and having a good time to their songs. Even after the harsh events that had transpired the previous year, Mickey, Robbie and Matt ‘lived’ on.

Mickey had always been the voice of the band, be it charismatically or literally. His voice had something exceptional that gave their music a unique harmony; something that felt young and energetic, much like his rhythm guitar chords. As much as there should always be certain things standing out, he just looked like your average twenty-or-so man. Mildly short brown hair, messed-up for the heck of looking ‘in the groove’, and usually wore t-shirts and skins.

Robbie, on the other hand, was to be considered the timid share of the band. He rarely showed any signs of exaggerated excitement, being too caught up in his concentration most of the time. What was there to expect from someone as talented as him on the guitar? He came up with most of the guitar riffs, the catchy tunes everyone bobbed their heads to in glee, and made amazing improvising near the end of the songs. As to what he looked like, Robbie had medium-length brown hair, was also twenty or so, and to many people’s surprise, was actually siblings with Mickey. What made it so surprising is how they don’t look exactly like each other. Only faint patterns could be traced between the two of them.

As for Matt, he was the laugh of the gang; always had a good joke or an amazing humor improvisation in certain contexts, which were constantly accompanied with a brilliant smile. What made him a feat to behold was his ‘grooviness’ as the lads liked to kid. His bass playing was flawless, and he often managed to play another instrument to accompany the song, such as a tambourine or a bass drum with his foot.

Robbie bowed to the crowd before clapping his own hands in favor of them, ignoring the blisters he had caused himself. Matt made exaggerated hand gestures that encouraged them to cheer on. On the other end, the drummer just sat there, wiping his face with what appeared to have once been a clean, dry towel. Afterwards, he made the demonstration of a ‘rock on’ with his right hand. Mickey smiled in content, admiring what effect their musical creations could provoke. This was their meaning to life, this was the bliss that they enjoyed so much, and kept pushing them to play. Many times over the past had they been faced to obstacles that blocked them from fame and glory, but they wouldn’t have any of that; they knew their music wasn’t the most popular out there, but that fact was far from being able to kill the fun and thrill of playing.

After taking a few breaths, Mickey took a glance at the other members, who all wore an emotion of joy and satisfaction on their faces. He approached the microphone and spoke: ‘Thank you all lads and gals, ‘t has been a load of fun playing for you tonight. Playing these songs and watching you all jump, shout and dance to them has made our evenin’, quite possibly the best all week. We’ll be heading for Newcastle next, and hope to see some of you there if you fancy. Thanks again Glasgow!’ After those words, the band members retreated from the stage, their hearts beating savagely from hearing the cheering that had doubled due to Mickey’s departing words. The boys made their way to the band’s quarters, and sat down on chairs and a sofa lying around, whilst cracking open a cold one.

‘To another great act played by us, and to the thousands others awaiting us in the future!’ said Matt whilst raising his beer in the air. The boys all looked at each other in gleefully unison, and clanked their drinks together before taking a long, well deserved gulp. After what seemed to have been a half hour of talking about the show, the ‘roadie captain’, as they liked to call him, took a step inside with a warming smile.

‘The stuff’s all packed up lads, are you ready to hit the road?’. The Little Comets each gave a nod, and took a few steps toward the doorway. On their way outside, they gave a quick stop to where they thought the replacement drummer would be, hoping they could thank him before leaving.

As if on cue, the drummer stepped out of the washroom, startled to meet the band in the hallway. ‘Great show you played tonight guys! You’ve really done it back there, and I hope you’ll come back on your next tour!’ he said before shaking everyone’s hand.

‘Don’t you worry Craig, we’re coming back here for sure, and of course, we’ll be counting on you to do what you’re best at.’ Matt replied with a grin on his face.

‘I wouldn’t brag about sweating my ass off, but if that’s what you’re into then I’d be more than glad to help out’ he replied with a wink. The lads fell into a fit of laughter, and each gave the drummer a fist bump before heading outside to the van.

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With doors ajar,

Tonight I will sleep in my car...

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The motorway glowed of orange, sparsely tattered by yellow and red cones as cars and trucks drove on it. The van, what many would mistake for a bakery delivery truck, had its storage compartment cramped full of instruments. Due to their lack of budget, the band wasn’t allowed a better means of transportation when it came to music equipment, but they coped with it well and it still got the job done in the end. Mickey was at the steering wheel, lost in thought as he drove down the motorway, whilst Robbie and Matt, sitting on what was left of the large seat, spoke of the night’s events and on certain occasions drifted off in their thoughts and daydreamed a bit.

It was already a quarter to ten, and after what had seemed to be a questionably long silence, Matt spoke up. ‘I have to say mates, that last gig was amazing. I mean, I remember the crowd going nuts on some other of our shows in the past like, but this time they were bat-crazed from the fun they had. Not only that, but their numbers seem to have grown too.’ Robbie offered a hearty smile, and crossed his arms behind his head before speaking. ‘I have a feeling things are going up for us. We don’t seem to be running out of ‘mojo’, and the guys we get to play the drums with us are not half bad. We should start looking for a permanent replacement eventually; every gig is a heart-breaker when we have to leave’. To that, Matt sighed and reluctantly plastered a smile on his lips. ‘Right you are but... none could be half as good as Mark was.’

Mickey shuddered at the mention of his name. Mark was indeed one of the best drummers he had known to play with, but if it hadn’t been for that fateful night...

‘Could we please not go back into that subject?’ Mickey hissed as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. ‘I’ve managed to come to peace with it; there is no need to get back into it unless it could make a definitive difference.’ He didn’t want to have this whole argument again. It always ended the same way; him getting all of the blame. However, he was convinced of the opposite being the truth.

Matt shifted his gaze to the right of the seat, and glared at Mickey. ‘And why not? I don’t remember having anything to do with this argument besides losing my best mate.’ Through his voice, a certain trace of desolation was apparent.

‘Listen, I’m sorry things had to happen the way they did, but sulking over the thoughts won’t help us move on.’ Mickey replied. Mildly irritated, he patted his pockets to find which one bore the fruits of his salvation. He took out his Zippo and pack of cigarettes, and lit himself a fag. The nicotine had done a great job at changing his train of thought from anything related to Mark in the past. As a matter of fact it still was, but unfortunately it didn’t keep Matt from rambling on..

‘And why the fuck shouldn’t I?’ Sometimes, Mickey, I can’t help but think this whole situation is what you wanted in the first place. In the beginning we all got along like Irishmen in a pub, but near that time, things had been a bit colder between the two of you.’ Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting for the answer he was hoping from Mickey, but to no avail.

Mickey glared at Matt, risking the loss of focus on the road so he could put an end to this argument as quickly as possible, given the chances of success. ‘I don’t know what exactly it is you think I wanted, but surely you’re not talking about her passing away. I liked Rosemary as much as all of us did. Maybe not nearly as much as Mark did, but you catch my drift right?.’ As soon as his words had come out, a loud horn echoed in the dead of night, returning his focus to the windshield. Gasping in panic, he shifted the steering wheel back to the left side of the road. They had nearly rammed into oncoming truck.

After the little adrenaline rush, Matt let out a sigh and released his grip from the dashboard and Robbie’s shoulder. Robbie breathed in some more, and before long Matt spoke once again. ‘I wasn’t talking about her; I was talking about him being kicked out.’

To that, something inside Mickey’s head snapped. Veins popped from his neck and forehead, followed by him glaring at Matt like he had just insulted Newcastle’s football team. ‘I don’t care what the fuck you think! If he hadn’t gone and done ‘that’, I wouldn’t have kicked him out in the first place! Besides, Robbie was hoping for that to happen too!’ Robbie gave a quick nod, before returning his gaze to the outside of the vehicle. He didn’t want to get involved in this quarrel that had become somewhat of a tradition, and his brother’s anger was apparent enough for him to not want any bother.

Matt spoke in Robbie’s defense instead. ‘The only reason Robbie thinks so is because he felt you were a tad more important than Mark was. It’s family and I understand that, you two are the closest I have to siblings, but just because you’re brothers doesn’t mean Robbie can’t have his opinion on the matter!’ Indeed, he had rooted for his brother’s side of argument instinctively, but what Mark had done wasn’t all that innocent either.

‘Listen, I-‘Mickey was cut off by the sound of an car’s horn. Mickey quickly rotated the steering wheel anti-clockwise, getting out of the oncoming vehicle’s path. Unfortunately, he had cocked the steering wheel too far, and the van inevitably rammed into an overpass.

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Oh, this dashboard’s so hard,

Can’t cushion the beats of my heart...

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(Music for dramatic effect)

Void. Endless darkness was all there was, if we could even consider that ‘being’. Such was the place his ordeal had led him to. Mickey, still having his eyes closed, tried to focus on what was happening. Before long his concentration was broken by the cooling sensation of wind going past him at a rather fast pace. He felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and allowed himself to fall freely.

Wait, 'falling'?

That’s when the pieces of the puzzle were put together in his head, and his eyes shot open. Mickey had rammed in an overpass, and was probably in what many would consider the passing to the after-life. Having no means of being able to object his fate, Mickey closed his eyes, his view being no different from when his eyes were open, the blackness being devoid of anything related to life, and allowed himself to once again fall freely to his impending fate. He liked this sensation; having the air friction massage his back, his limbs going numb and not having to support any type of weight, his hair shuffling rather quickly with the wind, accompanied by the chilling sensations of the wind on his neck and his forearm’s hair. He asked himself how wind could be present in what seemed to be a place devoid of anything related to life, but chose to not bother with the issue. He didn’t want to question the origins of the air he was breathing either, so he let whatever forces in charge of this ‘place’ free of questioning. He prayed the boys back on earth had made it alive and unscathed through the accident.

Before long the speed of his fall began to decrease, before finally coming to a halt. Opening his eyes in curiosity, Mickey found himself suspended in mid-air, hovering freely over what seemed to be a large glass platform. He tried shifting his position so his legs could land on the surface, and soon enough found himself standing on it, feeling the gravity taking back its push on him. Mickey perplexedly looked at the transparent platform. Even if he was in a place devoid of any light source, the crystal clear flooring seemed to be reflecting a faint glow. He also noticed his own figure was mirrored in the platform, and looked at his hand, now reflecting the same invisible light. As much as this was laws of physics utterly destroyed, he decided not to question this either. He doubted a Nobel-Prize could be given in this dimension.

Mickey took a careful step forward, verifying that the platform was solid enough to support him. It was about eight meters wide, and seemed to be as thick as his fist. The platform was in a rectangular shape, having its edges smoothed roundly, and was adorning only one path, that of which Mickey seemed to be at the start of. After making sure he wouldn’t crash through the divine floor, he began to walk down the path.

While trekking down the road, he took a look around the platform, seeing nothing but endless darkness everywhere. After seizing himself from his bewilderment, Mickey’s focus returned to his feet. The faint footsteps resounded, even though his Converse weren’t that much of attack. From afar he could tell there was an archway, materialized in what seemed very similar to the very platform he walked upon, and picked-up the pace to close the separation between the both of them. Before long he was standing in front of it, and noticed something peculiar; between the bended beams of the crystal archway, a thin layer of what seemed like a watery glow separated him from the other side of it. Reluctantly, Mickey passed his hand through, and noticed his hand was now invisible from his side. Seeing as there was no place for him to turn back to, he passed through the archway, his vision blinded for a brief moment, but as soon as it ended his vision cleared and he carried.

However, to his strangest surprise, he lost balance on his legs, and stumbled forward. Having hit the ground quite hard, his first thoughts were that of if the platform had broken under the impact, but to his relief no damage seemed to have been done. That’s when something of the outmost of bizarreness occurred.

In the clear reflection of the platform, he could form the outline of a small horse’s head; one that looked a lot like it came from a child’s imagination. He furrowed his brows in questioning, and that’s when he let out a massive gasp of surprise.

It wasn’t the fact that the figure in the reflection was a pastel colored little horse, rather that the pony actually mimicked Mickey’s every move. The reflection on the ground was him.

He shot a panicked glance at himself, and had the confirmation of what he had prayed wouldn’t had been the case. His body was now that of an equine, his fur colored in a pastel hued yellow tint, while he was firmly standing an what seemed to be four hooves, and had inherited a short mildly long tail to top it all off. Taking a more focused glance at his reflection, he curiously studied the outcome of his transformation; He indeed had the bust of a ‘cartoonified’ pony, having on his head what seemed to be a brown mane, bearing remnants of style from his previous form’s hair-do. His eyes, however, didn’t bear the same feat. He practically gawked at himself, being bewildered by the never-ending glow emitted from his amber hued iris. He brought his hoof to his vision, and wondered how the heck it had turned to this. Was everyone in the afterlife turned into a pony? His thoughts were cut short as a soft glow appeared out of nowhere. He stared in its direction, which was opposite to the archway.

‘I guess this is it’ Mickey sighed. ‘Might as well get used to it, and I sure as hell hope I’ll get some answers when I get to that light in the distance.’ He trotted sheepishly towards the faint light, in a manner similar to that of a newborn foal. As much as he found his new form irritating, the walking motions quickly caught on, and soon enough was trotting at what seemed to be a normal pace. As surprising as it was, it was probably due to the platform constantly expanding forward and the light never seeming to get any closer.

As soon as his pace was stable, he felt one of his front limbs lacking any sign of weight being supported. He hastily removed his hoof from the emptiness, and took a peek down the platform. Whatever was down there, he could not see, but he wasn’t planning on finding out yet. He searched around for any signs of other paths, when his gaze met floating platforms hovering in front of him. Seeing as they were his only issue towards the light, he backed up a few meters, and ran towards the series of floating platforms. As soon as he got to the edge of the larger one, he gave a powerful push off the edge, and leaped onto the now wobbling platform. He forced his limbs on it, trying to help the stabilizing of the platform, until it finally halted. On the platform was an etching of a pony’s head. The pony’s gaze was staring directly at Mickey, and he got the odd sensation of having met that gaze before. He shook his head in confusion, and carefully placed himself on the back of the platform, before taking a swing and skipping to the next one. Like the previous one, it wobbled wildly under his presence, and Mickey tried yet again to stabilize it.

However, as soon as Mickey applied pressure to the platform, it shattered into pieces, and the shards vanished in thin air. As Mickey was plummeting in the shadows, he watched the faint glow disappearing over him, and closed his eyes, feeling once again the pleasant sensation of falling. Whatever that platform was supposed to do, Mickey guessed he had failed a test, and was headed to the ‘other’ afterlife; the one resulting from sins of his previous life. Oddly enough, Mickey didn’t recall having committed anything evil beyond all morality, but shooed the thought away and wondered what was to happen next. Before long, a bright and shimmering light blinded Mickey’s vision, followed by him losing all consciousness of his surroundings.

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I miss the heat,

Solace and sway of the sheets...

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End Chapter 1

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