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 The making, the raise, and the fall. The life with in a band.

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Stevenstine Konstentien
Stevenstine Konstentien

Posts : 14
Join date : 2012-10-04

PostSubject: The making, the raise, and the fall. The life with in a band.   Mon Oct 08, 2012 12:20 pm

Fliers where posted up along all of down town. The fliers had bright green colored, script type hand writing on a black and blue background.

"To those that are interested, I am looking for some band mates. It does not matter what possession you are looking for. Just bring what you know. If you are interested please meet up with me at the abandon warehouse on ninth street."

Following that righting would be a cross with a heart at the top and one on the left tips, and a question make with a dot above it, between the right and bottom prongs of the cross.

Sitting on a crate that was left looking at the drum set and the guitars that where propped up. Sighing slightly and making her way to the drums. Taking the drum sticks from the back loops of her black jeans. and sat down. tapping the drum stick on one of the drums lightly before playing a tone. Her voice ringing out as she sang the lyrics. She has had a few people try out, they where either good, but would not comply with having to change small bits of their wardrobe to fit with the image she had in mind. Or they fit into her image and where horrible.

As she played, she had let time escape her, as well as the doubt that had tried to make its way into her mind. If anyone would have came in they would see the rainbow haired girl playing the drums and singing. A black jacket that laced at the bottom edge and at the ends of the sleeves. The warehouse was almost empty besides the set up she had put up. A few crates in a pile to make a chair, along with the crates that lined the walls.

Some stares along one wall that led up to a cat walk that lead to a overseers room on the other side of the area. The sound of the beat and the soft lyrics filled the wide open room but was muffled by the walls that made up the warehouse.
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