“What would draw their attentions to a young spirit like yourself” poised Hack.
“People are always flamed by those with good distinctions Hack,” he said before pausing to take a swig of the stale coffee in the flask.
“I made my marks by setting floors alight too the sounds of music that used to embezzle all the youth with the cool spouts, posing in pretences of fashion and their stale cardboard personas”.
“So by being such a clown you drew upon the love of many?” The Crone spluttered with spittle and coffee flying everywhere, covering the Hack.
“No, love never really happened for me, even though I had a lot of affections, I could never get past the buzzer in my head the would keep on pining me down as a fool” he mumbled with a muffled tone.
“I met some integrating people whose fascinations in me would burn around my very existence” he said with his mind breezing through his memories, his flitting eyes trickled off into the distance.
“I was one who burned the candles at both ends, fracturing the publicity of many a musical brand that counted amongst the croppers!” his voice almost burst.
“I was seen as a saviour for people with taste! I would plaster the walls of ears with the latest tips for sounds and how waves upon waves of faces would scream words of no relations to my bearings” he echoed with confused expressions in his voice
“Words like legend and celebrity are words that after a while changed me into an overly zealous character people made out of me”.
Hack paused before frantically scribbling down the Crones words.
“It is easy to get carried away when everybody seems to suck up to this fraud like character” his voice stiffened with a sense of prevailing frustration.
“I used to try and fight the fame bug, but I got bitten once too many” he sighed with a sense of retirement in his voice.
“I used to dance on many a stage, videos splattering my face across the media fronts” he paused
“Sometimes if you believe your own hype it can
affect the way you think”.
“Those are none too true a words,” the Hack said knowingly.
“It is these little words of warning that I will make aware to you Hack,” he said firmly.
“With me it all got pretty obsessive, I even had people building shrines in my name, constant flattery would batter and bate me” he yarned.
“It was at this point when things started to peel and fall apart to pieces” he paused to intake a deep swig of the earthly coffee. “I got too the point where I needed looking after”.
“In what way did you need looking after?” questioned Hack. The Crone Glared at him
“You ever had stalkers Hack? you ever felt the breath of threat Hack?, have you been hated by an entire community Hack?” his voice grew with an intense swelling anger to which Hack limply replied with a wimpish “no”.
“You see Hack! People can change just like the wind, one moment they can be blowing for you and the next they can washing against you, all it needs is a little quip in print here, a bit of misfortune there and with a good dollop of misinformed spewing” he quoted.
“I had to get myself some management to look after the circus of my life! The management in question helped to sort out the business! He always dealt the deadingly punches, pushing me into routines of flashing cameras, mic’s forced into my ailing face and the finances that he dealt with” he said with his dustied eyebrows flaking on the uplifting arches
“I met many people that made my fibre flamed heartburn, I got scorned by the tails with their stings which scolded me with burning scars” he said whilst staring with a certain amount of disparity.
“I got caught trying to spread myself! Being to many things to many public eyes, drawing neglect on those I should have been more tentative in my actions to those I left alone! I should not have let myself be driven by the green monsters behind these eyes,” he said with his voice almost breaking.
“I was so lucky because I had the love of an overly supportive family and I lost that! I lost it against the better judgements of my characteristics” he said with his eyes rimming circles.
“My parents” he paused with a stiffening sigh
“My parents set the stones and mortar for my foundations and gave me financial support which I bled dry and their love turned stone cold!” as his eyes seemed to drift past the Hack in a hazy daydreamed state that he almost seemed lost in.
“I was not the son they expected me to be! I never quite developed in the same way or speed of others. I had an extensive imagination that quite literally alienated me from others” he paused for a stony breath “I often had to invite people into my mental space” he said tapping his head with his spindly finger.
“Humans aren’t all wired the same, some will think I have loose wires” he pause for another intake of breath. “But I had shocks that shook me into place mentally!”
The Hack looked at the pale faded Crone sprawled on the floor becoming even more enthralled by the unravelling words being spun by the Crone’s voice.
“In what way were you shocked? And how did your mentality change?” enquisited Hack.
“Have you ever experienced death? Hack?, Have you ever been re-borne Hack? Because you see Hack I was re-borne, because you see Hack” stated The Crone
“I was re-borne for a good man to make the grave” he paused with an icy silence before continuing “When you have a double whammy of slaps that landed like a serious blow, draining tears of blood”.
His eyes were shaking with streams of emotional water works. The Hack passes out a tissue to try and sponge up the Crones tears. “I lost a friend and a supporter, that gradually shook my roots! Because I heard voices bite out at me, and my family. You see I did originate from these grounds!”
He said wistfully “I uprooted from the country where words travel fast! Peoples yakking mouths can be, quite an evil weapon because teeth can be like daggers,” He said mopping his tears.
“What was it that drew you to this place?” voiced the Hack as the Crones dewy eyes were relocating his history.
“I moved in on this place because of the music, which is something that has always been a driving fire of mine” moped the Crone.
“I burned my passions through rhythmic palpitation’s that I learned to play on the drums” his voice seemed a bit distant in dream mode.
“I was drawn by the whole community atmosphere and the buzz of a city life that I was hidden away from” spoke the Crone.
“I never used to be any good at socialising but that was gradually broken down and fleshed out” he twitched with a slight nervous air to his voice.
“When I lost my friend it was like loosing a vital piece of puzzle that completely fell to pieces” cried his voice
“I mean it was even worst because I had merely just recovered from near death!”
“Do tell me old Crone?” hampered the Hack,
“Do tell you what?” croaked the Crone.
“How You Nearly Died?”
“I was put into a Coma whilst under the knife to deal with my appendix,” sighed the Crone
“Bloody NHS bodge job” he moaned.
“I was nearly 6ft under because of one persons blunder,” he said raising one finger in the air.
“One simple in and out operation ended up with me spending 3 days unconscious and 4 in intensive care, that really helped to sort my head out”.
“How did it sort your head out?” puzzled Hack who raised his eyebrows fixating the stare on the Crone.
“How?” grumbled the Crone “I realised that I was not happy as the person that I was, so hence I gradually opened up to the beats and voices of music! I have always used music as a way to reach out to people” he shuddered.