Rants, raves, fiction, and laughs

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Blogfest of Death-- WESTON PEESE

Blogfest of Death of Tessa's Blurb! Please check it out along with all the other entries!



Eighteen-year-old Weston Peese had few joys in life. School wasn’t one of them. Girls weren’t one them, but that was a recent development. Not that he didn’t like girls, but there was a bitterness to affairs of the heart now.

Weston’s only joy was ROCK. He’d dream about being a rock star. He’d be on a stage, with the likes of Alice Cooper or Gene Simmons. Maybe it was both together as they formed an unholy trinity of pure rock. Lights would shine on them like the suns of a million galaxies – the crowd’s roar throbbing, pulsing, feeding them energy.

He’d be holding his dream-guitar: a cherry red Fender Stratocaster. He’d strut up to the microphone. He didn’t know what he would yell, but it would be something really cool. The crowd, already deafening, would swell louder until they threatened to burst the very air itself. And Alice would nod his approval. Then Weston would hold up his pick and strike the first chord. Everything would grow still. The magic note of his guitar would fill the universe and all would weep for its beauty.

Of course in the real world he was still pitifully trying to pluck out the intro to “Iron Man.” Why was everything so damn hard? Why wasn’t the will to rock the same thing as the ability to rock? Weston bemoaned his fate to be trapped a crummy apartment in Oakbrook Illinois with no musical talent and a mom who listened to Anne Murray.

So he left home.

He hitchhiked to Indianapolis. There he sold his extensive baseball card collection for enough money to buy his first ticket to a rock concert. Black Sabbath’s ‘Never Say Die!’ tour was playing that night. After some wiener-newbie band called ‘Van Halen’ got off the stage he watched Dave Walker scream ‘Johnny Blade’ to the mad crowd. He felt his senses blasted into oblivion as he became part of a glorious and enlightened whole… or something like that. As he put it, “fuckin’ cool!” (Weston was a rotten lyricist too).

That was the beginning and end of it. He became one of the gypsies of the great rock age known as ‘metal-heads.’ He found a friendly looking group with their own van and offered them cigarettes. After only a few hours, they’d offered to let him ride along as they followed ‘Never Say Die’ across the country. He stayed in hostels, shelters or slept outside. Whatever money they earned on the road went towards food, gas and concert tickets. It was a good life for Weston, who never dreamed of anything more ambitious than hotdogs.

He found other tours – other vans. He was been beaten up, stabbed, punched, robbed and worse, but he had also been loved, cried over, praised and celebrated, which had never happened before. He made friends, but none of them were like Hector. Hector was a loner, but he decided that Weston was a good kid and not too dangerous. They got to talking, and Hector offered him a ride to go follow KISS.

Weston’s luck only improved from there. For some reason money, accommodations, and food were no longer a problem. Anything Weston needed, Hector could provide. Granted Hector was a little short tempered, but at least he didn’t beat him up or try anything funny. Weston thought he’d stumbled on one decent guy in a million. Then came the concert in Detroit. Hector had disappeared for hours, but popped up again later.

“WES!” he shouted, trying to be heard over ‘Rock and Roll All Nite.’ “I found a guy who can get us backstage!”
“SERIOUSLY?” cried Weston. “Cool!”
“C’mon!” beckoned Hector, and Weston followed.

Hector led him through dark halls and alleys. Wes was hardly aware of where they were going. He was only trying to rehearse what he was going to say to Ace Frehley without sounding like a total goober and making sure his ‘KISS ARMY’ patch was prominent on his jacket… which was why he was completely taken unawares when Hector slammed him against a brick wall.

“The HELL? What are you doing?” Weston spat, and was cut off as Hector grabbed him by the collar.
“I’m sorry about this, but trust me. This is going to be cool,” he said.
“What? HEY!” screamed Weston as Hector grasped his denim jacket and tore it in two. “It took me years to get all those patches!” he protested.
Hector only shook his head as he ripped the neck of Wes’s shirt like it had been tissue paper.
“That was my last shirt, jackass!” screamed Wes.
“Would you shut up about your damn clothes?” snapped Hector rolling his eyes.
He pressed his body against Weston, pinning him to the wall. Weston, who suddenly had the sense to be terrified, struggled and squirmed, his back scraping against the bricks behind him. He felt his skin break, and the sand burned in his scrapes, but Hector couldn't be budged and his arm closed like a tourniquet around Weston’s arm.

Wes suddenly realized that he wasn’t going to meet KISS.

“Let go o’ me,” he pleaded, as cold perspiration beaded on his pale skin.
“Just calm down, Wes,” said Hector in strange voice. He was shaking, as if trying to control himself. “Don’t get excited, okay? That’s the last thing I need.”

Weston’s heart froze. He closed his eyes and tried to disconnect from everything that was happening. He waited for Hector to finish with him and throw him away, which is why he barely flinched when he felt Hector’s trembling lips close on his bare neck.

Hector sinking his teeth into the soft skin on his shoulder was a surprise, though. Weston cried out in pain, but it died quickly as he felt the aching pull of the blood leaving his body. He stared into the black alley, which began to swirl and dance in his advancing stupor. His arms fell limply to his sides and he felt his heart slow and stutter to sluggish crawl. Lightheaded wasn't the word for it – it was like the darkness of the alley was swallowing him up in a personal hell Hector had devised for him. As the life left his body, and before his heart gave a last judder and stopped, a single thought went through his damaged and deafened brain…

“Hell isn’t nearly as cool as they make it sound in the songs."

Weston's story isn't over! Want to know more about Weston Peese? Read his story in the acclaimed webcomic Skeleton Crew


Kim Batchelor said...

“Hell isn’t nearly as cool as they make it sound in the songs." What a great line to end with.

"As the life left his body and his heart have a shudder and stopped," did you mean "his heart shuddered"? Just a small point.

Good work, Monica.

Monica Marier said...

Ooh! Good catch, thanks! Glad you stopped by, and thanks for the warm FFs and RTS!

Anonymous said...

Wow, awesome story, Monica. From the Stratocaster and Anne Murray to that last brilliant line, I love this story.

\m/ Rock on!

Monica Marier said...

Thanks, Grace! This took a lot more research on Wiki than I would thought necessary on a story about a 70's Rocker. (Heh-heh) It was truly an amazing movement.

John Wiswell said...

I like all the linguistic flourishes, such as "gypsies of the rock age." Polishes up the semi-memoir style with your kind of twine, Monica.

Monica Marier said...

Thanks John. You always leave great comments with seeds of wisdom in them. : )

Tony Noland said...

Terrific descriptions, especially of the jean jacket.

My favorite KISS song was "Beth", probably the only love ballad they ever did. I'm not much of a rocker...

Sam said...

Awesome! This is my era, and my kind of music. The characters are great and I love the story. Even though I knew something was going to happen to Weston, the reveal was very good, and not quite what I (nor he!) was expecting!

Monica Marier said...

@Tony & Sam I had a distinct feeling that if you two thought it sounded genuine I did my research right. Not having been around in the 70s I was understandably worried since I wanted to touch a chord of nostalgia for people who had actually been there.

Thanks both for dropping by and for the RTS.

Laura Eno said...

You should never accept rides from strangers... :)

This was great! Terrific descriptions.

Monica Marier said...

Thanks, Laura! I've only written for Weston as a sage 50-year-old vampire in Skeleton Crew. I was surprised/bemused by how stupid I'd made him.

Tessa Conte said...

He's not stupid, just least he is if he gets better with age. Supid doesn't wear out with age - does it?

Dear Monica,

this is a FANTASTOMATIC MWAHAHAHA worthy death scene you've given me there! Thank you so much for sharing that (also, for sharing it early, because at last count there were somewhere around 50 participants in the 'fest so I'll be reading a lot this weekend) ; )

I love the way you tell his story, just matterof fact, his youthful idiocy and the way he worries about his clothes before he realizes he should perhaps be scared...

GREAT STUFF, thanks for that!

*runs off to check out Skeleton Crew*


ps. the winner of the voucher will probably be announced wednesday-ish... I'll fix the date in my sunday post.

Monica Marier said...

@Tessa Thanks for hosting this. I had a blast doing it. Stupid rarely can be cured but on the off-chance it happens, it takes a LOT of time. Weston, simply put, was a late bloomer. Glad you liked this.

Eric J. Krause said...

Good story! I loved the bit about him traveling around the country following the rock tours. And that last line was just wicked cool! I've bookmarked Skeleton Crew and can't wait to give it a look.

Monica Marier said...

@Eric Yay! Glad you liked it. I always have the most fun writing the last line of my short stories. It's become a simple joy in life.

Jen Brubacher said...

I didn't know anything about the blogfest before I read it, so it was actually something a surprise ending, and really powerful for that: the details of being scraped against the bricks were especially strong. And I do want to know more about Weston! Nicely done.

This made me laugh: "After some wiener-newbie band called ‘Van Halen’ got off the stage..." Heh.

Andrew Rosenberg said...

Ahh, the life of a groupie.
Too bad he didn't follow the Grateful Dead, their followers are too mellow to attract vamps.
Nice job!

Delia said...

As someone who was, in fact, around during the 70s (just ignore the weeping), well done. The only things I'd remove are the terms "ass-hat" and "sweet" as they weren't in common use then (ass-hat wasn't in use at all). It was more of a "jack-off" and "cool" type of time. ;) Other than that, you've got your research down. Nice. I dig the vampires.

Renae said...

I am loving your descriptive style. And that last line...wonderful. Well done!

Mari said...

Excellent story Monmon! I loved riding the 70's rock 'n roll ride with you and untalented Weston. (if he were talented the story wouldn't be as nearly good. well done!)

Oh, hey! Awesome knowing the origin of another one of your cool Skeleton Crew characters!

Note to self: go back and read more of the webcomic. :)

Justin W. Parente said...

That last line was killer! Thanks for the wonderful read.

Sangu said...

This was great fun, I'd love to see more of how this goes!

Lovy Boheme said...

Such a fun piece. If I didn't know someone had to die, I never would have seen it coming. :)

Mesmerix said...

This was a good piece. I liked Weston, and you characterized him well. My only critique is I thought it took too long to get past the backstory info dump and into the action. Once you got the action though, it was great! Maybe you could work the expository in? Or cut what isn't necessary? The last line was truly superb.

Scribbler to Scribe

RaShelle said...

This was great! You think it's gonna get all sick and twisted AND it gets vampish and twisted. Very cool. =D

L'Aussie said...

I liked the 'weiner-newbie' band Van Halen as the throw-aside line here. Didn't stay 'newbie' for long. Liked how you researched this and very nearly got it right except for a few expressions that hadn't been born yet. Great work..:)

Monica Marier said...

Thanks for the tips, vets! I will update/fix the lingo when I get back from vacation! <3 I love that you guys want to help w. that. :)

Nomar Knight said...

Great job with this and yes, you ended it with a great line about hell. Well done!

Donna Hole said...

Oh wow; how'd I miss this one. I like how you date this without having to mention the year. Such grandiosity in Weston's character. I loved this.