King David is all of us - capable of such great feats, yet very human and frail. We're all seeking shelter in Gath these days, trying to figure out how our present situation is so different from what we imagined. Until better days arrive, we will play on and make the best of it.
PS: Grognardia is back and my world feels a little more whole. Nice!
wonderful post!
ReplyDeleteThank you, my friend. :) Tomorrow's post involves lost mail-in ballots. The news is an endless supply of post-apoc goodness. Or badness.
DeleteLooking forward to Tomorrow's post! Woo Hoo! And yeah current times are sadly rich with fodder for PA gaming inspiration.
DeleteThe dust caked his throat as he entered. Lifting the flaccid aleskin to his lips, but he found no relief there. The Great Imbiber's gifts were far and few lately. With the sun baking the ground and giving off heatwaves it didn't look as if there was any relief coming soon.
ReplyDeleteThe crumbling building ahead had enough roof to provide shade. He considered checking for hostiles, but he didn't hear anything and he was too tired to give a shit. He walked over the broken door and felt the temperature drop a few degrees. The back of his neck had small white bubbles, something that needed attention.
He saw the chair and sat down and grabbed an aloe plant from his pack and broke off a stem and squeezed the gel onto his dirt covered fingers. He applied the soothing gel to the back of his neck. It was then when he saw it.
A guitar. No. A Martin. He'd only heard about them. Something his father used to talk about when he was a child. He looked at it in disbelief. A gust of wind rushed through the openings and brushed against the strings ever so gently causing a series of notes to rise from the artifact. The sound caused him to hold his breathe. He wished he could stop his heart so he could hear nothing but that sound.
He reached out, his hand trembling. He hesitated. The dirt on his hands. The Martin pristine and unsoiled. Maybe he should just let it be. Then he heard his father's voice, course from all the cigarettes he smoked. "Guitar ain't noth'n but wood and metal unless you plays it. You gotta give it life. Them strings, the weight on yous shoulder, the roughen of da strings. Fingers move. Gives it life. We can all be gods when wes play the music."
He flex his hand and tenderly grasped the neck, his fingers wrapped across the cool metal strings. The curve of body rested perfectly over his knee. He took a breath as his hand fell across the strings and the sound...the sound he hadn't heard in so many years greeted him with his father's smile.
I love the way you bring the setting to life. I can picture the movie perfectly in my mind. :)
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