Moments in Time - 4. Chapters Unwritten

A loud click broke the silence of the empty theater. A spotlight sputtered on and a small circle of light illuminated an old, scarred, wooden chair. Dusty seats watched the otherwise empty stage, waiting for a show to begin.

Heavy thuds announced the approaching boots of a brooding young man. Just outside the light, he crouched down and fumbled with something. Leaving a small camcorder on the floor, he swung his guitar around and strode to the chair. The light wood of guitar, which he cradled reverently in his arms, was a stark contrast to his black tee shirt and jeans.

He bent his dark head for a long moment. Then callused fingers moved purposely against the guitar, and the notes echoed off the musty walls in the old theater. An absent audience listened quietly to the lone guitarist play.

Head bowed, he plucked the strings. As music filled the air, he closed his eyes. Lost in the music, the memories, for a while.

His fingers stilled, the final notes reverberated. He silenced the music with one hand on the strings. Holding the instrument by the neck, he walked off stage.

The camcorder continued to record the empty chair. Off stage, chains rattled. The curtain closed on countless chapters left unwritten, many tragedies untold.

Draven jerked upright. Clammy hands tugged on sweat soaked hair as he struggled to calm down. He grabbed his discarded shorts and quickly dressed.

“That’s enough of that shit,” He did his best Clint Eastwood impression. Down quiet streets, with numerous doors hiding endless possibilities, he tried to outrun his nightmare.