Many years later, Jack Neverington worked in the back of stages. No matter how many times he tried to escape they always managed to bring him back. He tried everything and he had given up.
He was eighteen and still living in the same dump. The concert was still inplay but almost over. Jack went to thier dressing rooms to make sure everything was set. Cups of water and liquior in every room. Rag towel, footstools, make up and a clean dresser. He left the dressing room and headed for his own sancurary.
His room was small but comfortable. It was made form acceccories and items he had found on his own. He rarely got paid. Ever since that inccident when he was eight, the man never trusted him. He never knew what the mans name was, only that he played in a band called the 'Hot Dogs of London'.
Most of thier music was pretty much crap, thought Jack, and yet screaming fans keep running for them.
Most of the time, he wondered what it would be like to on be on top of a stage and sometimes his mind would drift to the girl red hair. He wondered what had become of dear Sally. Wondered if she would ever remember him. He sighed. He heard cheers from the final encore and knew they would be leaving soon.
He walked out and followed the other stage workers to the stage. The front lights were blinding. He could hear the fans screaming and cheering as they exited the area. Jack put up some equipment but lingered back a bit. Once everyone had left, he was alone. He had a few minutes before they departed. A man, probubly a fan (thought Jack), staggered inside the room. "Encore!" he yelled. Jack looked toward him and stared. The mans eyes popped out in fear and he ran to the exit. Once he was sure that nobody else was coming around, he touched the microphone lightly. Nobody heard.
He made a noise to clear his throat. It echoed through out the large room. Nobody heard. He gently placed his fingers on the microphone head and lifted it off its stand. Three woman then entered the room. They were maids and he knew them well.
"Good Evening ladies." "Good evening Jack." they called back. He saw them all the time and wasn't the least embarssed. He then started to sing:
"There are few who deny at what I do. I am the best.
For my talents are renowned far and wide. When it comes to
surprises in the moon lite night, I excel without ever even trying.
With the slightest bit of effort of my ghost like charm,
I have seen grown men give out a shriek! With
a wave of my hand and a well placed moan I have swept
the very bravest off thier feet!"
He stopped and the maids clapped for him. He smiled, then a fourth maid entered the room. She had vivid red hair.
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And there is always more to come
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