Rock And Roll

His name was Eddie Funsull, they took him one night, put him in a van and took him away. They didn't like him, his music, or the way he looked. He stood out. He was one of the few Black guys in the Goth rock scene in town. But it wasn't because he was Black that they took him, it was the fact that he wasn't afraid to be what he sang about. Rock Music was his life. He lived for it. When he took the stage, it was as if he transcended time and space, as if he wasn't part of human existence. He'd sing of love lost, love yet to be, he'd sing of the freedom of existing beyond the constraints of conformity, about being that creature that we all longed to be but feared because of the doldrums of life, family, and its traditions.

Many of the young people, who were into the Goth scene in town, were secretive about it. They hid their outfits and donned them only at concerts, or at late night gatherings at the local cemetery. But Eddie, he would wear his boldly. He would wear a black hoodie and black jeans torn at the cuffs. He would wear black work boots that were weather worn and had tattered shoelaces. During the summer months, he would wear black T-shirts that he painted skulls on, and a pair of black paramilitary pants. On the other shirts, he painted the words BE YOUR FREEDOM.

There were times when Eddie would have those dark days. He would become distant, and you couldn't reach him. He would be lost in his own space and time, oblivious to those around him, and that made the locals uneasy. The locals were hospitable folks, cheerful, of a good disposition. They didn't take kindly to loners, especially the ones who chose to be like Eddie was. They had tolerated many of the youth and their need to express themselves in whatever way they deemed fashionable. They had seen their share of fads, styles, temperaments, and had suffered through them all. When the time came for the youths to grow up, and become responsible members of the community, there was a sigh of relief.

But Eddie was different. He lived the life in the songs that he wrote and became the lyrics. His was a longing for the freedom that slipped through the fingers. His songs sang of the need to be free, to speak when you feel like speaking, to dress as you choose and not be judged. Eddie wasn't a strange bird; he was just misunderstood. The towns folk, in their need for everyone to be the same and follow the set standard, didn't take the time out to get to know him. They frowned at his behavior; they didn't like how he kept to himself or how he chose not to speak when one of them said howdy.

But it was on the stage at the local Goth Fests that he came to life. it was as if someone had poured cold water on him and pushed him on the stage. When his band played, his voice would carry over the entire gathering, it would hover there high above them and then descend upon the crowd. As he sang songs about the coldness of life and the coldness within the grave of constraint, he would whip the crowd into a frenzy. Fists were raised, and shouts of affirmation filled the air as Eddie belted the tunes over the crowd and into the minds of a generation longing for escape from the mundane, even if it was only for a moment in time.

News of the Goth Fests and Eddie's performances spread quickly across the small town. The local Police got wind of it too and put together a small unit in order to shut it all down. The undercover youth cops assigned to the units, were sent to infiltrate the town's Goth scene. They would strike up a conversation, work on remembering a name or a face, hoping to get a lead on the whereabouts of the next Fest. The language within Goth culture was hard for them to decipher. The hand drawn posters and fliers had special meanings. The maps, giving directions to the Fests, were also misleading, but only to those who were not a part of the culture. Some youth cops were discovered early and were quietly taken off the detail. Concerned parents, hearing rumors of promiscuous sex, and drug use at the gatherings, started questioning their sons and daughters about the Fests and asking them if they had participated in any of them.

Soon after, Eddie became a target. He was harassed several times by the local Police and several of the town's folk. But Eddie never backed down. He continued wearing his black T-shirts emblazoned with fatalist phrases and his black paramilitary pants. At night he sat at the train station and wrote lyrics in his notepad until the early morning. Rumors of another Goth Fest spread like wildfire. The towns folk blamed Eddie for spreading the rumors and demanded that the Police detain him, but the locals got to Eddie first.

It was a clear night. The wind stood still. You could hear the rumbling of thunder. It was a low rumble, the kind you hear before a storm. Eddie was walking from the local 24-hour market when he was accosted by five locals. They grabbed him, threw him in a van and drove off. One of the men spoke to him about how he was a bad influence on the town's youth and that the town would be a better place without the likes of him in it. The man also suggested that it might be a good time for him to leave and never return. Eddie said nothing. The man spoke again and asked him if he understood. Eddie, again, said nothing. Eddie's silence angered the man. He grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him hard against the van door. The door flew open, and the man lost his grip on Eddie's shirt. Eddie fell from the van into the quiet night. The screams and curses from the five men filled the night air as the van stopped and they all stepped out to look over the bridge and at the depths below. The thunder began to rumble again but louder this time. A green haze rose from depths below the bridge. It rose slowly, ascending, then stopping in mid-air. Several flashes of lightning pierced the night's sky flailing in all directions. The five men jumped into the van. The driver fumbled with the keys then put them into the ignition. A bolt of lightning struck the road in front of the vehicle as its wheels screeched, and it sped off.

Eddie's disappearance was the top news in town. There were whispers about him falling on bad times and having to move on. Some said that he had grown tired of being a false celebrity and decided to move on and live a normal life in another town. Eddie's bandmates weren't buying it. In their hearts they knew that something had happened to Eddie. They knew that he had lots of enemies in town, but they weren't sure if it was the cops or if it was some of the locals who had something to do with his disappearance. But, in all of that madness, the strange thing this is this, No one ever really knew where Eddie had come from, who his parents were, or anything about him for that matter, and no one cared to ask.

The town was quiet for several years after that. But then something strange happened. In the area where Eddie had fallen and on the date of his disappearance, there was a severe lightning storm. The green haze rose up again and the lightning flashed. It also flashed in all of the areas where he had performed and in the town square. Power outages were reported in the town and the surrounding areas on that day, and the town was without electricity for weeks, but Eddie's bandmates drove to the town square with all of their equipment. It was as if they were driven to go there.

The local police laughed at them, told them they were crazy, and to go home. They shrugged it off and told the police that an acoustic, outdoor jam session never hurt anyone. The towns folk, curious to see what was going on, all walked to the town square. Many young people walked to the square to see the band setting up at the gazebo. Some of the towns folk laughed and asked them how they planned on having a concert without any electricity. The band shrugged their shoulders and waited.

The lightning struck again, and a green haze descended upon the gazebo. At 8 PM sharp, there stood Eddie Funsell. The towns folk gasped, police officers stared in disbelief, some young people were frozen in fear. Eddie's band mates looked at each other, they were all afraid but tried hard not to show it. The bands amplifiers lit up, Eddie called the tune, and the band began to play. He started singing one the songs that had endeared him to the town's Goth Culture. The crowd moved closer as his voice belted out over them. The five men who had accosted him stood in fear. As Eddie sang, he forgave each one of them. The men trembled as they beheld the green aura that surrounded the gazebo. Eddie waved his hands high and sang. His strong voice infected the crowd as he sang about angst, personal freedom, and rotting in a casket in a grave of constraint.

The towns folk were all frozen. They couldn't believe the spectacle. They watched as the young people, who had hidden their activities from parents, went to their hiding places and donned their Goth outfits. The Police tried to move toward the stage but were unable to advance. Is it wrong to be different? Eddie sang. Is it wrong to be free, is it wrong to live as you choose, is it wrong to be like me? Open the mausoleum and let the corpses walk free.

"Eddie's back! Eddies back!" the crowd shouted. "He's back! He's back!" The crowd of young people began to grow. They waved their hands in the air and sang along with Eddie. The lightning bolts flashed once more, but this time, they flashed green. The green haze slowly descended upon the crowd of young people. It covered them and gently swept them up into the sky and disappeared. Eddie his band mates, and the youth of the town, where gone. There were screams, people were crying, many were shouting. When the electricity was restored, there was no trace any youth anywhere in the town. On the floor of the gazebo was a CD of Eddie's songs with a note attached. DONT WORRY. it read. I'LL BRING THEM BACK. LET THEM BE FREE FOR A WHILE.