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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2203729
Written for the Writer's Cramp prompt, 10/21/19.
The Gig

You would not believe how long I've been waiting to see these guys play; not even if I told you. Every album they've released, every video that they've made, I've got the instant it became available. When the announcement of the gig was made, okay, not local but near enough to travel to, I was first in line for a ticket.

Not for me the seats at the back, where the view was provided by screens. Hell, I might as well be watching it on screen if I was going to settle for the that. Down at the front, right up close to the real action, that was where I wanted to be. And travelling early, being prepared to wait, that's just where I got.

My hero's would be up there singing and strumming just a few feet away from me. Yep, they'd almost be in hands reach, if only the security guards were not there to prevent that touch.

The noise hit me like a wall of sound, so loud I could feel it thrumming its way through my entire body. Everyone was transfixed for a moment and then the vocals began and we all found our voices together.

The pace picked up, the bass and the rhythm took over and everyone sprang to life. There were arms everywhere, I crush from behind and from both sides. I should have expected it, but I didn't. My feet seemed to be moving from their own volition. There was no fighting it, I just went with the flow and everything would have been fine if the flow had not stopped abruptly.

My feet were not ready; I was stumbling, out of balance and there was no way I could hold back that forward momentum until my head went crack.

I guess it was lucky that I was right at the front, for the security guards could hardly miss a body falling at their feet. I had a vague awareness of the music playing while I was picked up and whisked away, too groggy to appreciate the attention.

The ambulance arrived quickly. I suppose they are always on alert when these big concerts are on. I was whisked in to see a doctor who poked and prodded at my head; asked me some questions. I caught sight of my reflection and that bump was the size of a dinosaur egg.

I'd have to stay there for the night at least. They fed me painkillers and every so often a nurse would pop up, ask me questions, get me to take small sips of water. Me, I wanted to cry. All my waiting, my planning, for one song and a helluva lot of embarrassment.

But the following morning I had visitors. The entire band walked in with a bag full of merchandise. I even got photos with all of them. I'd have preferred not to have had that rapidly discoloring lump on my head, but hey, I can't expect everything.

Would I do it again? Was it really worth it? You bet it was!



(511 words).

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