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Oct 12, 2021 00:44
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| # ¿ Dec 14, 2024 01:38 |
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Serenade western horror 1994 When I woke in my truck bed outside of Marie’s, the sun was already beginning its descent behind the Tucsons. Both Marie and the November weather had been gracious enough to let me sleep through the day, which was a blessing given that the crowd had been a bit too sparse to cover the cost of lodging afterward. It was to be expected, I suppose. I’d pressed a few records in my salad days, and had some radio play during the hard times, but now that you had to have either a face or a gimmick to make it in this business, I found myself out of luck. It had begun this way, playing every little spot in every little town, sometimes just for a hot meal and a room upstairs. I remember enjoying it more before. A place like Marie’s doesn’t really get busy until after dark, so I stood a reasonable chance of begging a free meal before I performed. Steeling myself, I made my way toward the rear entrance which led to the office. I could hear a conversation through the open office window. “-ask for your opinion, Mars. I came to say goodbye.” A man, but not one of the cooks I’d drank with the night before. “Believe me, Chuck, you don’t want to go to Yuma. There’s no money there, and unless you’ve added some Ranchera stuff to your repertoire you won’t even pull in the Mexicans.” That was Marie, but something was a bit off. I couldn’t hear the usual edge in her tone. “Well, what am I supposed to do? I’ve got nothing keeping me here.” “Stay with me. Play here tonight. I’ll bump the guy we’ve got.” poo poo. I’m typically a romantic at heart, but when matters of the heart start to affect matters of the wallet I can turn cold as quick as the desert night. Still, there was no point in barging in on the proceedings, so instead I made as if I was rolling a cigarette and kept listening. “Mars, the guy promised me $200 if I could play in Aguas Profundas tonight. I haven’t made anything near that in years.” “I’ve got something he can’t give you. Here, come see.” It had been a while, but I’d lived long enough to know where that was going without having to be there to come see for myself. I wouldn’t be getting that meal, but I did gain a destination. As far as I’d known, the resort in Aguas Profundas had been closed since things had turned sour all over, but the last time I passed through Yuma there’d been a rumor that someone was putting big money into the place. That same someone might not think much of offering $200 for a night’s work, and at the very least, I knew a few Mexican numbers as a last resort. I wasn’t sure if I could make the trip in time to collect on the offer, but if the object of Mars’ affection liked his odds, I figured it was worth trying. I’d driven the same route in the spring, and while the resort wasn’t quite in Yuma, it was close enough that I didn’t really have to focus on the road. Dusk became night, and in a few hours I found myself turning off of the main road and heading up the hill. The resort sat at the very top, built around the hot springs that gave the town its name. Last I’d heard, most of the people here had left when the springs dried up, but clearly it wasn’t the case. The main street was empty, but as I passed by various homes and businesses each window bore a single burning candle. I’d been through plenty of dying towns before, and this one was far too well kept to even seem in decline. Further up the hill the resort shone brilliantly against the dark sky. The resort was built on a bluff overlooking the town, so I parked my truck as close as I could to the path and strapped my guitar on my back. The footpath didn’t seem too treacherous, especially as it was lined with lit candles along its zig-zagging ascent of the cliff face. The climb was a bit tiring, so when I’d reached what I guessed was about halfway I stopped to catch my breath. I looked back toward the town, but to my astonishment, I couldn’t make it out. I thought I must have climbed further than I’d thought, as below me lay only blackness. Stranger still, the footpath I’d just walked seemed to trail off into that same darkness without any sign of my truck. I ought to have turned tail and climbed back down, but the prospect of $200 outweighed the growing sense that something was amiss. Instead, I pushed on. Whoever had funded the restoration of the resort did so with classical taste. The front-facing windows had been replaced with stained glass, and though I couldn’t make out the patterns, the light shining through them added a strange, lovely glow to the last stretch of the path. It was magnificent, as if it had been set ablaze with every color I’d ever seen. I hastened my pace toward the main door and began to hear the cacophony of a hundred conversations inside. After taking a moment to smooth my hair and straighten my jacket, I rang the bell. The sound of conversation stopped. It wasn’t a gradual thing, as if someone had drawn attention and asked for quiet. Instead, it was like my pressing the bell had cut off the other noise entirely. After a moment, I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It opened. I had expected some sort of doorman or bellboy to appear on the other side of the door, but the man standing before me projected strength and authority. He was incredibly tall, and his rigid posture somehow amplified the sharpness of his features. For some reason, he was wearing a long coat indoors, one that closed tightly around him in such a way that I couldn’t really make out whether he was thin or stout. “May I help you, sir?” “Ah, I’ve, uh, come to play music tonight. A friend of mine in Tucson said he couldn’t keep his engagement, but he sent me instead.” The man stared blankly at me for a moment. “Can you read sheet music?” “Yeah, sure. If you’ve got something you want me to play, I’ll be happy to. I’ll need a bit to look at it first, though. You ought to know that I had some originals that were a pretty big hit on the radio a while back, so-” “That won’t be necessary, thank you. If you can play the music we’ve prepared, that will be sufficient.” “Just one song? My friend told me you were offering some real money, so I assumed you’d need a full set.” “It’s as I told Mr. Edmonds. $200 for what we’ve prepared, then you can leave. Come with me a moment and I’ll find you the music.” The tall man quickly turned and walked away, leaving me to close the door before I followed. He moved forward through the main hall, and as I quickened my pace, I saw dozens of guests in different rooms turn to watch me as I passed. They, too, all wore the same long coats. The interior of the resort was even finer than it would have seemed from the outside. It was about the nicest place I’d ever seen, and I’d even hit the private clubs full of oil men. The tall man opened a door near the end of the hall and beckoned for me to enter. Inside was one chair and one table, which bore a pitcher of ice water and a single glass to drink from. It was as if the room had been arranged just for me. “I will return in a moment with the sheet music.” Again, he turned and left with no ceremony. As soon as he closed the door, however, it opened again. To my surprise, the tall man now had a stack of paper in his hands. He set it down on the table and looked at me. “Here it is. When you feel comfortable playing the music, press the button next to the door and I’ll return. When you’ve finished your performance, you can return here to collect your pay and take your leave.” Once again, he turned and walked out. I picked up the first sheet and looked it over. There wasn’t anything particularly difficult about the music, but it couldn’t be right. There was no rhythm or pattern to it, rather just a random string of notes, chords, and breaks between. I flipped through the other sheets to try to see if the piece ever came together, but it was like that throughout. It didn’t make any sense, but I wouldn’t need any more time to prepare. I pressed the button. The door opened instantly. The tall man was there again, smiling in a way that made me uneasy. “Wonderful. Follow me and we can begin.” Following the tall man was more of a challenge than the first time through the hall. He seemed to be accelerating through the building, taking sharp turns and opening nondescript doors to halls that seemed to mirror those which we’d already walked. I’d completely lost my sense of where in the resort we were, but I knew that again and again we progressed downward. Suddenly, we had arrived. The dozens of guests I’d seen must have made their way down before us while I reviewed the piece. They had gathered themselves in the grand empty bath at the center of the room, and as the tall man and I finally entered every one of them turned to look at us. “Stop there, now. Begin when I am with the others. Play the piece in full.” The tall man began to walk forward. “I’m sorry, I’ll need a stand for the pages.” He looked over his shoulder. “No, you won’t. Begin.” He spoke with such conviction that I felt compelled to try. I placed the first page down on the ground before me, readied my guitar, and started to play. From the moment I struck the first note, I lost control of myself. My hands moved to each note and chord of their own volition, and as I continued to play the tempo increased. I looked to the crowd in the bath and saw them removing their coats. None of them wore shirts underneath, and on every chest was painted one of several strange symbols. They circled around the tall man, who was last to remove his coat. Unlike the others, he lacked a symbol, but instead began to sing. He did not open his mouth, but he sang anyway, and as he accompanied me on my guitar the music began to make sense. He sang until the earth began to shake, and he sang even louder once it opened. He sang as the waters rose and sang louder still as the thrashing and screeching from under the water led to screams of agony as the guests were all pulled under. By the time I finished the piece, only the tall man and I remained. The water receded, and the earth closed. It’s been a couple of weeks since Aguas Profundas, and I’ve mostly come to terms with it. The tall man was nice enough to let me stay the night for free after we talked about his work, and I’ve lined up a regular performance there at an even better rate. I’ve added his song to my sets, and every time I play it, I see faces that I’ll recognize the next time I return to the resort. The road isn’t easy, but I’m starting to enjoy it again.
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Oct 18, 2021 06:01
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In, flash please
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Oct 19, 2021 16:16
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in
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Nov 30, 2021 01:16
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E: rip
t a s t e fucked around with this message at 00:45 on Jan 1, 2022 |
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Dec 6, 2021 07:51
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| # ¿ Dec 14, 2024 01:38 |
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In
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Dec 9, 2021 00:00
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