Die Writing

Make it dark

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on April 26, 2011


I need a blues late night. Need it.

Play that slide

“Gonna get dark in here.” Eyes closed, hat’s rim shifted down, the bluesman licked his lips as he spoke. His voice low as a grave. “Mmmm yes.”

A single note. Raspy, distorted, scum of a note.

The base player sucked in his cigarette. The bastard glowed like it was going to burst into flames. Then he poured out the rhythm. Simple, thumping rhythm that grabs your ribs, sucker-punches you, makes your breath quiver.  He laughed, pouring a cloud of thick smoke over the guitar.

The bluesman shifted the slide, changed the note ever so slightly, made it even dirtier. He wielded his strings like a shank in a bar fight. It didn’t matter who he left bleeding. There was a frenzy coming. But like every good storm, it was no good rushing it. The bluesman was patient.

“Fuck,” he growled into the mic, and matched the baseman’s rhythm with his own. It was slow, mad, menacing as hell. It was a road that led off a cliff.


Notes echoing, dying in the amplifier.

Silence settling in the place. Bullets itching in the chamber. Knives glistening in the scabbards.

“Fuck this,” were man’s last words. Then it came on, all over everything. Mad. Pissed off. Swarming the place. Sweat-soaked, cheating, whiskey-stained, bloodied up blues. It broke chairs, pushed people down, shattered a bottle. The guitars were torches shoved into buckets of tar. The end was coming, and this blues was cashing in all of its chips.

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