I wrote this story in one hour flat one random night for CF...hope it makes the cut.The title is STRANGE FREQUENCY, as the story is inspired from the HBO movie-series of that name.
Enjoy!
It was late, yet 15-year old Matt was wide awake. He kept looking at the calendar on his bedside table. The clock read 11:59 pm. In a minute, the next day would begin. That day would be December 8, 2007.The third death anniversary of Dimebag Darrell, one of the foremost metal and shred guitarists of his day. On that day 3 years ago, Dime was shot dead by a crazed fan, Nathan Gale along with three others during a concert in a club. The reason for the murder was, police gathered, that the killer loved Dime too much. Tragic.
The clock struck midnight, and Matt turned off the light.He tried to go to sleep, but couldn’t. He thought about his life. Matt was a seemingly normal kid, who liked his sports and rock-n-roll music. However, he kept his love for Dimebag and Pantera secret, at least from his conservative parents.It was a real pity, he thought, that he discovered Pantera long after they broke up and Dime was dead. And there was nothing he could do to change it. What he really wanted was to attend a Pantera concert, but that was not possible anymore.
In the morning, he got ready to go to school as always, but he had other plans for the day. Instead of taking the bus to school at the bus stand, he took a bus to an amphitheatre outside his town, to attend a Dimebag tribute concert, with a friend. The day went well. His friend, Andy wasn’t a real fan of Pantera, but he went with Matt as he was his friend, and because it seemed "cool".
"Damn good show, man”, Andy said at the end of the show.
"Yeah.I really liked the third band”, Matt said.
"So, do you wanna head back home, or wanna to make this a day to really remember?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that”, said Andy, pointing to a bar.
"No, man. You know i don’t drink or go to such places. My parents would kill me--"
"Your parents would kill you if they found out were here", said Andy. “C’mon, give it a try".
Andy was a kid with no scruples. He had tried everything, whatever seemed "cool" to him. Matt reluctantly agreed to go to the bar with him.
The bar was filled with dangerous looking people, bearded and long haired metalheads, and hot yet nasty looking chicks. They scared Matt, but he went in anyway. Andy ordered a couple of beers, and was looking around with surprise and awe. Matt fixed his gaze to the bar table, and waited for the drinks. The people around noticed his discomfort, and tried to put him at ease.
"How you doin, kid?"
"You alright?"
The men tried to start a conversation with him, and he obliged. Soon, they were talking on a variety of issues. The beer made him feel better, and he was enjoying himself. Then one of the men offered him his drink, and he took it. It was real strong stuff, and Matt felt his stomach heaving. But he finished the drink offered to him.
It was getting late, and time to go. Andy and him bade the guys’ farewell and got onto a bus. Soon Matt developed a splitting headache on the bus. It kept getting worse, and he started seeing things, like blurry visions.
The visions showed him in first-person view in an arena full of people.
However, it ended then, and all he was left with was a headache which he felt would split his head open. Andy was psyched out, seeing Matt writhe and groan in pain. However, Matt was fine once he reached home. In fact, it was like the pain thing never happened. To his parents, he had just returned from a normal school day.
One would be mistaken to think that Matt never touched alcohol again. On the contrary, he was hooked onto it. His school performance dipped, and he became somewhat of a recluse at school. He started attending more rock concerts and drinking heavily in the company of fans at pubs. His parents, however knew nothing of all this. On occasions, when he over-indulged himself with alcohol, the visions returned.
In them, he was in an arena full of people, and was moving towards the stage, his hand clutching something in his jacket-pocket, but he didn’t know what.
He didn’t want to find out, either. The only result of all this was that he started drinking more and more, and was taking Andy down this path with him too.
One day, after a particularly rambunctious concert, followed by copious amounts of drink, he was returning with Andy and some other friends back home in a jeep, when the headaches returned, worse than ever. He was moaning and writhing and squirming like a worm in pain. His friends were clueless and terrified. They didn’t know what to do and all they could do was watch. His visions were back.
He was in the arena moving towards the stage. He could now recognize the music. It was Damageplan playing. Then he, in the vision looks up and sees a banner which said ALROSA VILLA. In another banner it said DAMAGEPLAN LIVE IN CONCERT,
Then all he saw was blackness.
When he awoke, he was back in his room, in bed. His parents (who thought he had gone to see a baseball game) were by his bedside.
"Thank god you're alright."
"What happened, son? Did you get hurt really badly during the game? We checked you for injuries but couldn’t find any. So we didn’t call the doctor. We thought all you needed was rest. Andy and the others were really helpful. Do thank them for us, son."
"Thanks dad, I'm ok.I guess i was just tired."
Later, after his parents had left, Matt started thinking of his visions. Alrosa Villa,
What if, through the person he was in the vision, he could prevent the killer from carrying out the diabolical deed? He would change history then, for the better! He was excited about this idea, and did not consider the many loose ends in it. Heck, the whole idea was itself a loose end, a fantasy. But Matt did not care.
In order to get into the vision, he had to first get high on booze or something similar. Even the thought of the headache did not deter him. He then went to Andy's place and told him everything.
"Crazy, man! What’s happened to you? I liked the plain old you. Man, you're insane"
Matt had expected such a reaction. But he persisted.
"Andy, I need you to help me. I need to get high!"
After repeated requests he managed to get Andy on his side.
"I need to get really high to do what i plan to do. I need more than booze can offer. I need dope”, Matt said.
"Man, if we're caught we'll both be up to our heads in it".
"Don’t worry. We won’t be caught."
They headed to the house of one of their pals who lived in town. He was part of the group they traveled with to shows and concerts, and was at around 7-8 years older than them. They reached his house and knocked.
"Hey guys. What are you doin here?” he asked.
"Dude, I need your help. It may seem crazy to you, so I'll cut the story. I need dope”, Matt said.
The older friend was speechless for a while, and then he said, in a voice devoid of friendship.
"Cant do it. You’re too young. Is this a joke?"
"What if we pay for it? We're dead serious".
"The risks involved are too high"
"Please, man. Just a one-time favour".
The older friend finally gave in.He gave them some dope in a McDonald’s packet and let them out through the back door of his house.
"Now listen carefully”, he said. "Dont overdo it, and wait for the effect to hit you. It’s not instantaneous".
He then banged the door shut.
They then ran back to Matt's garage (the car wasn’t there as his parents were out).Matt then followed all the instructions given to him by the older friend and waited.
It then hit him like a hurricane uprooting a tree. The headache phase lasted only a few seconds, and he was in the vision, at the part where the last one ended.
It was clearer than before, like he was living in a movie. There’s no time to lose, he thought. I must act fast. He looked around in the heaving crowd, looking for someone who looked like the killer, Nathan Gale. He cursed himself for not finding out how he looked. He was frantic, and was sweating even though it was really cold. He then reached the stage without realizing it, and saw Dimebag on stage, playing one of his trademark guitar solos. Then, to his absolute shock, he took out a gun from his jacket pocket (so that was what he had been clutching all along), and points it at Dimebag. Each second seemed an hour, as he pumped him with five bullets straight in the head. He then turned and shot all those who came rushing up to him from the crowd, taking the lives of three others, and wounding two more. Then, in agonizing detail, he saw a police officer brandish his service shotgun and shoot at him. Two shells straight in the face.
The vision ended abruptly, and Matt was sweating as if it was midsummer. He could not cope with what he had just seen.
HE HAD SHOT DEAD DIMEBAG DARRELL!
Was such a thing possible? He was sure it wasn’t a dream, as there were details which he never knew, and which exactly matched the police investigation report of the shootout. Whatever it was one thing he was sure of. Life will never be the same again.
That was the last sane thought Matt Thompson ever had.
