Nightmare Drabble
Thanks Mitch Hedberg. You inspire me to write inane fanfiction drabbles.
Nightmare. General Fiction, no pairings. Crackdrabble, please?
You're welcome.
A little sneakered foot tapped its toe on the floor as the short vocalist stretched his neck to the left and right, had to be comfortable even at rehearsal. Yomi glanced over toward stage left where Hitsugi wandered aimlessly in a three-foot radius wide circle.
Hitsugi didn't notice though. His attention was caught by the many empty seats built into the arena in front of him, on the sides of the stage, and the great space just in front of the platform stage where just hours from now the devout fans standing outside in the cold will scavenge for close spots in front of their favorite member. A near-silent, hushed clearing of a throat brought his attention way across the stage to Sakito whom had just gotten over a weak head cold the day before.
Sakito's fingers magically moved up and down the neck of his guitar as he practiced chords he knew by heart. Chord combinations he had compiled himself years ago, but he still loved the way they felt in his fingertips.
Ni~ya stood somewhat behind the lead guitarist, his left hand steadying the swaying bass guitar hanging loosely from the pleather strap that tugged at some of his hair as it came around his left shoulder. He needed a haircut, and a touch-up. His roots were showing a little too much now.
Meanwhile, Ruka was making his way to the stage itself. Not twenty minutes ago he had been laying down when he heard someone drop something near his head. With a groan he had opened his eyes to see no one else in the room. He hadn't heard footsteps leaving the room.
But there was a box there, sitting next to his face. Long, thin, rectangular, about the length of his forearm. Yawning, he touched it. Was he still dreaming? Nah.
There was no name on the box. Something in his subconscious told him to open it. Plain white cardboard, in the shape of a shoebox, sat in his hands for only seconds before he lifted the lid.
Two shiny new drumsticks lay on pink tissue paper; a leopard spot pattern painted on the lower, thicker half. They seemed to glow, but without the actual fancy glowing effects.
Sakito noticed Ruka finally take a grand leap up the last stair to the stage. Shrugging, he turned to grab a pick off a nearby amp. Hitsugi already had one in hand. Yomi watched Ruka settle in behind his drum set, putting on his gloves and fixing a cymbal's position to that of which was a more comfortable reach for the length of his arm.
Ruka tapped the new drumsticks together in rhythm over his head.
One-Two-Three-Four.
A loud clatter grabbed the attention of the entire venue. Yomi, Hitsugi, Sakito, and Ruka looked around. Something was wrong. Something was... missing.
Where Ni~ya stood seconds ago, there was now his beloved blue Killer bass guitar laying on the floor next to a very odd object.
Sakito backed away at first, his eye wide with some emotion even he wasn't sure of. Hitsugi crept past Yomi, who was holding his chest trying to slow his heartbeat. Slowly the three of them made a circle around it, surely and silently they lowered themselves on their heels to investigate more.
Hitsugi reached out for it. Small, cylindrical, and as he held it in his hand he realized it was strangely warm to the touch. The guitarist turned it over with his fingers so he could read the words printed on the label.
Cream of Mushroom.
Ruka sat with his mouth agape, staring at his hands. Or rather, the new drumsticks he held in his hands. Curséd? Nah, he didn't believe in stuff like that...
Yup. I didn't mention crackdrabble for no reason up there.
Nightmare. General Fiction, no pairings. Crackdrabble, please?
You're welcome.
A little sneakered foot tapped its toe on the floor as the short vocalist stretched his neck to the left and right, had to be comfortable even at rehearsal. Yomi glanced over toward stage left where Hitsugi wandered aimlessly in a three-foot radius wide circle.
Hitsugi didn't notice though. His attention was caught by the many empty seats built into the arena in front of him, on the sides of the stage, and the great space just in front of the platform stage where just hours from now the devout fans standing outside in the cold will scavenge for close spots in front of their favorite member. A near-silent, hushed clearing of a throat brought his attention way across the stage to Sakito whom had just gotten over a weak head cold the day before.
Sakito's fingers magically moved up and down the neck of his guitar as he practiced chords he knew by heart. Chord combinations he had compiled himself years ago, but he still loved the way they felt in his fingertips.
Ni~ya stood somewhat behind the lead guitarist, his left hand steadying the swaying bass guitar hanging loosely from the pleather strap that tugged at some of his hair as it came around his left shoulder. He needed a haircut, and a touch-up. His roots were showing a little too much now.
Meanwhile, Ruka was making his way to the stage itself. Not twenty minutes ago he had been laying down when he heard someone drop something near his head. With a groan he had opened his eyes to see no one else in the room. He hadn't heard footsteps leaving the room.
But there was a box there, sitting next to his face. Long, thin, rectangular, about the length of his forearm. Yawning, he touched it. Was he still dreaming? Nah.
There was no name on the box. Something in his subconscious told him to open it. Plain white cardboard, in the shape of a shoebox, sat in his hands for only seconds before he lifted the lid.
Two shiny new drumsticks lay on pink tissue paper; a leopard spot pattern painted on the lower, thicker half. They seemed to glow, but without the actual fancy glowing effects.
Sakito noticed Ruka finally take a grand leap up the last stair to the stage. Shrugging, he turned to grab a pick off a nearby amp. Hitsugi already had one in hand. Yomi watched Ruka settle in behind his drum set, putting on his gloves and fixing a cymbal's position to that of which was a more comfortable reach for the length of his arm.
Ruka tapped the new drumsticks together in rhythm over his head.
One-Two-Three-Four.
A loud clatter grabbed the attention of the entire venue. Yomi, Hitsugi, Sakito, and Ruka looked around. Something was wrong. Something was... missing.
Where Ni~ya stood seconds ago, there was now his beloved blue Killer bass guitar laying on the floor next to a very odd object.
Sakito backed away at first, his eye wide with some emotion even he wasn't sure of. Hitsugi crept past Yomi, who was holding his chest trying to slow his heartbeat. Slowly the three of them made a circle around it, surely and silently they lowered themselves on their heels to investigate more.
Hitsugi reached out for it. Small, cylindrical, and as he held it in his hand he realized it was strangely warm to the touch. The guitarist turned it over with his fingers so he could read the words printed on the label.
Cream of Mushroom.
Ruka sat with his mouth agape, staring at his hands. Or rather, the new drumsticks he held in his hands. Curséd? Nah, he didn't believe in stuff like that...
Yup. I didn't mention crackdrabble for no reason up there.