We Twist and Turn | By : Kasie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 968 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Hey! Lookie I wrote another angsty story lol, big surprise :) I'm going to try to keep up with this one, though I’ve tried to keep up with the others for who knows how long now!
Sadly, I own neither Darren nor Danny (though a girl can dream) and this is purely FICTION , not real folks!
The room was cold, musty, lifeless. Dust piled up along the shelves and countertops, cobwebs covered the nooks and crannies along the walls, it had been many years since anyone had ventured into the old apartment.
A shiver ran down the back of the old man’s spine. He was handsome, despite his age, and the ever-present creases that marred his face. Yes, it had been many years. A younger man, carrying a tape recorder, followed him inside, starring at the room around him.
“So this is it?” The question came out almost harshly, it echoed off the walls. The older man turned around, and smiled sadly, nodding.
“Yes, it is.”
The younger man nodded and turned around, ushering for his partner to follow him inside. A young blonde woman wearing stylish glasses and carrying a pad of paper and a pen walked in slowly, taking in her surroundings. Jotting down notes on her paper, she glanced along the walls, stopping at a certain picture frame.
“Mr. Jones, meet Becky. She’s one of the writers that will be working on the movie.” The old man extended his hand, but she ignored it, skipping right to business.
“When was this taken?” she asked, gesturing towards the photograph she had been staring at earlier. The old man looked at it, his eyes glazing over. Two men stood in the picture, smiling out at him. One, a younger version of himself- tall and lanky with a bright tobacco stained smile, was holding up some sort of award and smiling proudly. The other man’s eyes were shining a bright cerulean. As if he was in shock at their achievement but trying to hide it. They both looked extremely pleased. Such happy times…how things had changed…
“When our first album went platinum.” He stated, running a hand tiredly through his blonde hair, now silvered from age. “Why do we have to do this here again?”
“The executive producers wanted it to be as accurate as possible. They thought being here might help you to remember better.”
“As if I could forget?” The man sighed, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. “Very well then, where would you like me to start?”
The younger man and Becky, as she had been introduced, came to sit down across from him. Becky was obviously ready to scribble down whatever the old song writer had to say, but the young man brought a tape recorder none the less.
“The beginning is best.” He answered.
“Yes, I suppose that would be best wouldn’t it? But which beginning? The beginning of our career? The beginning of our friendship? Or the beginning of the end? There are so many beginnings that all lead to the same ending, time has many different fragments, but it all leads to the same place in the end do they not?” The young man shifted in his chair, taking off his glasses to polish them on his shirt, obviously an act of nervousness he had acquired over the years.
“When, when you guys first met I think, yes I think that would be best.” The old man closed his eyes, tilting his head back and trying to focus on a picture in the back of his mind, it was fuzzy at first, and the mans face became more wrinkled and tired in his concentration. The picture slowly began growing larger, more in focus, as if it was a snapshot taken the day before.
“I suppose it all started in June of 1990. I was young and stupid. Seventeen years old, I thought I could conquer the world with music, I was a fool.
“Yes, but when did you meet—“
“I'm getting there!” the old man snapped, his emerald eyes glittering. “Now, if you would be so kind as to please not interrupt me again, I’ll continue.” He waited for the young man to nod before he continued.
“As I was saying, my brothers and I had been forming a band. I quit school to become a part of it. We rocked, I must admit, but although Jon, Oli, and I could pretty much tame any instrument you could throw at us, none of us could sing a note.”
“It was Jon’s idea to put an ad in the local Music magazine. I thought it was a stupid idea, I wanted our singer to be somebody we already knew; unfortunately nobody we knew could sing a lick either, so the ad went up….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Darr Loo Look at this!” A pretty young woman sat at the kitchen table in their small apartment, an open magazine in her hand. A young man, Darren, looked up from his pancakes and over at her. His face was pale and child-like in the morning sunlight, smooth and innocent, cradled by his blonde locks.
“What is it, Colby?”
“Look at this ad!” She passed the magazine over the table and Darren took it in his hands.
“Wanted- Die hard surfer, not afraid to risk life for the big wave- oh yeah, definitely me sweetie,” he smiled cheekily at her.
“Not that one you muffin! Below it.” She whacked his arm from across the table playfully. He laughed looking down at the magazine again,
Wanted
Male vocalist for band
Non-smoking, between ages of 17 and 22
Willing to practice long hours
Serious Applicants only
Contact Jonathon Jones at 555-7291
Darren looked back up at Colby questioningly.
“You should do it!” She urged, Darren shook his head bashfully, blushing.
“I'm not good enough.”
“Darren Stanley Hayes, I’ve heard you sing in the shower hundreds of times. Hell, you’ve sung to me in the shower before.” She smirked seductively, hugging her fiancé from behind. “I love you.” She murmured kissing his neck.
“I love you too, Colbs” he said, leaning back into her kisses.
“So you’ll at least audition?”
“Now that depends,” Darren smirked, “Do I get a treat?” In one swift motion he got up out of his seat, turned around, and wrapped his arms around her. Colby giggled.
“We’ll see.”
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