Not entirely sure what this is, actually. It came to me as I was falling asleep and was interesting enough to me (at the time) that I got up and wrote it down.
I guess it was more just something to write than anything else. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Music this time is 3001: A Laced Odyssey by Flatbush Zombies. I just found about it a couple days ago but have listened to it many times since. It’s pretty great.
There was that ominous, building hum, with the occasional hoots and yells of that certain kind of person who finds making their existence known to others quite gratifying. The stage lay mostly in darkness, although the indistinct bodies of staff could be glimpsed once in a while.
A tuning guitar and bass, microphone feedback punctuated by a handful of drum taps and the crowd flared up like fanning dying coals. But the stage stayed dark, perhaps with a faint trail of artificial fog, and their screams died down a minute later.
There wasn’t even quiet conversation between audience members by this point, the atmosphere was tense, stifiling any speech like heavy snowfall. The air was heavy, like a layer of gasoline vapor lay throughout, ready to burn. Then the stage lights burst alive in blinding illumination and the gasoline sparked. The instruments screamed into life and the crowd felt a physical wave of sound crash over them, their insides reverberating with the music.
“Are you all fucking ready?” Adrian Buckner, lead of The Falling Crosses, yelled. The crowd had already been screaming but it doubled in magnitued at his prompting. The music of the background picked up in temp and viscousness, and the concert began.
After the first couple songs Adrian went offstage for a moment and came back, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes were open wide, darting around.
The music began again with even more vigor, his singing jumping from yelling to screaming to a hoarse whisper and back again. Song after song they continued, the audience now at a continuous peak of excitement, only quieting somewhat in the short pauses between songs when Adrian went backstage for a boost.
The last couple tracks had been more mellow, slower and more poetic, brooding songs, but after his last return from backstage it spiked up again in fervor. Adrian’s eyes were crazed and his singing was manic, and during an intense guitar solo in the middle of one song Adrian darted offstage for a moment and returned with two gasoline tanks. The instruments continued, gaining in speed, and Adrian grabbed his microphone off the stand and held it in his right hand along with one of the tanks.
“Are you all fucking enjoying this?” he screamed as the music continued, and the crowd peaked again with excitement. He set down one of the tanks and unscrewed the top of the other and began dousing the crowd in front of him with its contents. Despite seeing what was happening, the crowd continued with their cheers, even the ones being covered in gasoline. Once that tank was empty he opened the second and began flinging it about, trying to cover those further back in the crowd. Still, no one quavered.
Adrian took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tapped one out and gripped it in his mouth, then returned it and pulled out a matchbook. He lit one, inhaled the sulfur fumes and paused a moment, staring at the flame, then flicked it out into the crowd.
It caught immediately, the fire spreading throughout the gasoline-soaked crowd and even to some beyond within seconds. The screams were still of excitement and fervor but now with a tinge of terror, edging gradually towards the latter over the time. Adrian removed the cigarette from his mouth and reached out toward the flaming head of an audience member in front of him.
“Could you spare me a light?” he said, lighting the cigarette of the burning person.
The instrumental solo had finished so Adrian returned to his microphone stand and finished his lyrics. When that song had finished, the instruments trailed off and the band members stood, watching the burning crowd in front of them whose screams continued but were now entirely of horror and pain. Adrian took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the pillar that was now rising into the air.