Haunting Of 20th Century Historical Fiction Moving Images

Occupying, the catbird perch Sally Burns saw everything especially when the curtain dropped, alerting house fluorescent bulbs, ‘replace the front lady's egot spotlight, making the drummer smirk, witnessing the satisfied audience depart.

“There were a few nice guys out there,” the troupe’s watch dog reported, securing the luxury coach backseat, offering the perfect view.

“Sally Burns, always getting the VIP treatment,” the lead singer pressed the point, adjusting her head on the bus's passenger window, quickly falling asleep.

“Dream on, enjoy the fantasy ride,” Sally advised, prepared, understanding, hazardous roads ahead.

Time passed, generations changed, complementing the styles and despite a placid atmosphere, something still haunted Sally. Today, silently positioned above the city, assigned to guard a glass enclosed workspace, monitoring records playing, distributed, anticipating the public’s attention. Staring outside from the tower, the influential go getter whose enthusiasm was cut short due to one person’s psychotic power play, studied the clock’s arms, telling the human the time, 11:30 pm.

Sitting back enjoying the rocker gift, designed perfectly by someone who performed a kind act Sally, pondered the day, spent living. Starting with leaving the apartment, positively engaging in the quiet neighborhood atmosphere, until an elderly uniformed woman approached the soon to be senior, carrying a notebook, prepared for scribbling information,”

“What can I get you?” Asked the diner hostess.

“I will take the daily breakfast special,” Sally requested.

Breaking character, Tina Clarke couldn’t help, wanting to show, the dedicated entertainer appreciation, “you sit up there every night in that steeple shrine spinning tunes, not allowing the needle, any scratching opportunities.”

Laughing, Sally retorted, “I do not play them, since you know the everything to easy revolution started like you know, computers hiring AI technology.”

“Which gives you time to preside over things,” Tina reinforced, “protect us, I wish I had that.”

“Did a horrible event occur?” Sally questioned.

“Left the band to find myself and,”

Once facing the same type of conflictive tragedy, Sally listened, comforting, “and?”

“An overpowering figure, a monster attacked me and now, I take people’s orders, no longer aggressively expecting anything,”

“Expecting what?” Sally remarked, “making someone’s morning performing a simple special request, being there for them, something like that only will lead to kind supportive words.”

“You are right, Sally,” Tina Clarke put the writing instrument and pad back into the holder, “I will be back with your first meal of the day.”

After experiencing, nourishing protein moments, Sally decided to visit the beach where Tina had an unforgettable memory, years ago.

Presenting a vacation day role the fluffy personality drove up to the miniature golf course attraction, where her old friend, Dee Dee played a round, “Dee Dee, still walking the shore course?” Screamed the professional talker, seeing the motherly figure return a strange waving response.

“Dee Dee,” Sally repeated discovering a space.

“Oh, Dee Dee,” the friendly stranger remembered, “Sally, its Rita Montone, now.”

“Did you get married?” Sally investigated.

“Not exactly, changed the name since the children incident,” Rita explained dismembering weeds, charging the varmints with suffocating the garden exhibit decorating the golfing hole.

“The children?’

“All it took was a bus ride home” Rita or Dee Dee paused, “they all turned on us, and overpowered all the parents.”

“That is right,” Sally recounted.

“Now I just tend to the plants here, counting the money our guys grow not turning off any water work meters,” Rita emphasized, “And confirming, the greens are good for puttering around.”

Off in the distance a kid’s contingent screamed, “if you hooker to the left we may nail those two bimbos loitering there.”

“Loitering!” Rita yelled back.

“Bimbos!” Sally added, “didn’t your elders teach you any manners.”

“Since, there is no fair way here to say it,” the youngsters wise cracked, “we must say no”

“Teenage adolescents these days,” Rita complained.

“I know, our future,” Sally agreed.

After the interactive dialogue, Sally felt confident, realizing she never bred and addressed the debatable obligation, “no time for that.”

Continuing marching down the concrete path, Sally defended visiting her friend Adrienne Lee at the townhouse her parents owned, a proper decision and followed through accomplishing the task.

Brisking passed, the sleeping greeter, Sally arrived intent on pressing buttons before doors opened revealing upward transportation.

Jumping inside the affluently carpeted lift, selecting the wanted floor, she patiently waited, and the elevator suddenly stopped, stepping off, navigating the hallway the guest searched the property.

“Alec,” Sally shrieked conjuring a face to pop outside with a finger signaling silence.

“Alec is not here,” the voice sounded.

“Adrienne, I'm Sally, remember”

“Yeah, I do,” Adrienne pulled the visitor, “but that is not me anymore, especially following what happened the other night.”

Only a few steps taken and the two travelled from the entry way to the kitchen, “I tell you he just came in the room,” Adrienne told Sally.

“Did you leave the door unlocked?”

“Well, yeah, do you see anything around here to steal,” Adrienne spoke, “I am on the phone with my mother, and she is wondering where my husband is and boom there is a guy, drooling.”

“Alec?”

“No, Andy,” Adrienne corrected.

“I am glad you are all right,” Sally acted concern.

“I just don’t like powerful gestures.”

“Well, that is not going to happen again,” Sally comforted, “since at midnight.”

“That is right,” Adrienne clarified, “the controlling fantasy ends, terminating the contractual relationship exactly when cuckoo clucks twelve times.”

Hearing a pin drop, the ticking brought hope, encouraging Sally ‘wipe a vinyl circular recording, then take one step back,’ distancing herself, leaving modern conveniences aside. Placing the album, they unearthed cleaning the storage area on the turntable the disc jockey unlocked the microphone, “what is that?” A shout emerged, not expecting an answer.

Shutting off the broadcasting equipment Sally stood up, leaving her post, “hark who goes there?”

She spouted the guard language, noticing an illuminating brightness outing a giant individual, holding a machine gun.

“What do you want from me?” Sally asked, “your tyranny is ready to conclude in less than five minutes.

“I was calculating, are you ready to retire? And was wondering if you wanted an IRA investment,” the imposing image flaunted.

“Who wants to know?” Sally persisted.

“Major MacCool,” the stranger introduced, “Major Finn MacCool.”

“Major MacCool, if you think you are just going to come in here, sweep me off my feet like a romantic royal dialogue tease,” Sally stopped, “you may want to rethink your motives.”

“I bring good tidings, a gold-filled pot and a wonderful legendary colorful arc transforming rainy days, giving dark clouds shiny glowing riches.”

“I assume you are a leprechaun with a get rich quick scheme,” Sally critically acknowledged.

“A large leprechaun with a get lucky idea,” Major MacCool corrected.

As a bong sounded, “eleven more and,”

“You will have to work for a living,” Major MacCool realistically commentated.

“Eight nine,” Sally counted, observing Major MacCool check his weapon.

Unleashing a glare, Sally delivered, a God like message, “it's over,” and Major MacCool surrendered.

“Sit down,” Sally commanded and like a dog learning new tricks Major MacCool helplessly watched a simple chorus member disrupt a preprogrammed set.

“Midnight just chimed,” Sally announced, meaning only one thing, “we are now free.”

With giant Major Finn MacCool now magically powerless, Sally played an oldie but goodie, a song her theatrical group once belted out, triggering a violent scene, sending talent to unknown eternal places, starting an invasion heard all over the music world.