NOTICE: This is an original short story by me, but you cannot copy or plagiarize it. Too many people related to me know of this story - and, lets face it, no body likes a copy-cat. I'm going to further-develop this in the future, so this is a rough draft and this is one part and a one-shot of a novel I'm working on. So read it, enjoy it, favor it, review it, BUT DO NOT COPY IT! This is a work of fiction by no one other than me.

Other than that, I hope you like one edited short-part of my book! :)

Forever, Infinity, Eternally

By TheBiteOfFrost

I normally spent my Fridays working at the local diner as a busboy, a tiny little café on York Street titled "That Café Place", but since it was the last week of summer break before junior year at high school, I decided to spend the day hanging out with the guys.

"Ugh, I do not want to go back to school on Monday," my best friend since kindergarten, Steven Cliff, groaned, pressing the cold Coke against his forehead. "I'm tellin' ya, high school's such a pain."

Samuel Macintosh flicked his cigarette out on the sidewalk and crunched it with the sole of his shoe. He looked at Steve and cocked a pierced brow. "And we still have another two years of it," he mumbles before rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and slouched in the chair he was sitting in. He turned toward me and said, "so, excited?"

I furrow my eye brows. "Bout what?"

"The show tonight, at Bridgewater genius. What else?"

I smile secretively down, studying the sidewalk that has cracks that seriously would break your mother's back. "Oh, that," I try to say in a nonchalant tone.

"What show?" Steve asks and Trey Johns, my other best friend, too, looks quizzically at me.

"Well, in Bridgewater there's this show going on at McCroff's and we usually go there a lot." Sam smirks at me. "But Alex never find his dream girl. He's scared he'll never see her again."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I argue, narrowing my eye brows at him, while nervously twisting my Coke bottle cap around in my fingers. I start tapping my foot, my leg bouncing—a nervous habit I never knew where I got from. "I've been with plenty of girls; I'm not scared of just one."

I sure didn't sound like I wasn't ready. As much as I deny it, I was seriously freaking over the fact that Sam swore me to at least talk to her for the first time-or, what he thinks is the first time… After all of my years crushing on her, this is probably would finally be the time to grow a pair and talk to the only girl I've liked for the first time since that night so long ago.

"All I'm saying, man, is go with the flow," Sam said, leaning back in his seat with his hands folded behind his head. "Don't put too much pressure on the whole thing. After all, what've got to lose? Besides the obvious…" He wagged his eye brows in a way that I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Amen," Steve laughs, raising his bottle of Coke in the air. He takes a drink before setting it down on the table in front of us. "So, did you guys plan us coming with you? I so want to see Alex freak over this girl." He looks over at Trey expectantly. Steve maybe the serious jock in the group, and Trey maybe the geek, but Steve and Trey were really close for some unspeakable reason unknown to anyone but them.

"Eh, why not," Trey said, shrugging. We agree, nodding our heads in a strange unison, and stand up from the outside table in the patio at "That Café Place". I didn't have to work there that day, but ever since I started working there last year, it was suddenly by some unspoken agreement for it to be our hang-out. And, well, also because I gave the guys my employee discount when they bugging the crap out of me. I drink the last of my coffee before tossing the Styrofoam cup in the trash by the door, and off we went down the sidewalk toward Steve's house.


There's always been something about the bass guitar that fascinated me. About how the long, heavy notes you could string together to make its own sound, its own harmony, its own person. I loved that when I played something long, and, loud, and heavy, that it would thicken the air around you, making you get lost in the sensations, forgetting everyone and everything except two things: You, and the bass.

Her name is Black Beauty, and not just because of the rich, sheer colour of black on it. She's named because of the beautiful bleak and dark sounds she makes are sorts of notes and music I love.

The first time I had a real interest in the bass guitar was the summer between eighth grade and freshman year. Samuel convinced me to go to this band session at a coffee house that was happening in Bridgewater, another small town a little east of us. He said that all the biggest, small-town bands would be there. Really, in my fifteen-year-old mind, the only real reason why I even agreed was because Sam promised girls would be there. Since at that age with puberty and everything, that was the only thing that I had my mind on that night: girls.

There they were, as promised—but that wasn't all that caught my attention; it was the stage that night. The small café was filled with smoke, which I was pretty sure was illegal, but did I care? I was there, I was looking for girls, and I was now caught up in the music. This one band that I fondly remember, the Coal Skillets, had a thirty-minute stand-in, playing songs that I could never get out of my head. It was a band of four young—maybe middle or high school—guys, as per usual, all with blonde curly hair, except for the bassist, who had black hair.

I'm still, to this day, not exactly sure why the bassist caught my attention. I guess he was sort of odd-looking, with female-like features, but there were plenty of guys who had female features. But the way this guy looked wasn't the only thing that captured my attention; it was that he played each and every bass note beautifully. It was just like listening to beauty and mystery for the first time, and back a few years ago, I had never heard anything so sweet and hallow and terrifying.

At one point, in the last song—singing something about life not being fair—he got right up and started jamming with the drummer. The lead guitarist just smirked at the singer, who gave the lead guitarist a thumbs up. He strummed slowly, not at all what the lead guitarist should do, and the singer didn't sing. It was just the bassist, with the exception of the drummer.

After the band played out its last song, everyone hooted and hollered, and shouted things like "More!" and "Encore!" They simply set down their instruments, unplugged their amps and climbed off stage.

"What a wicked bassist," I heard Sam say, and I nodded. I then realized I was sweating, and I had to go outside, or the body-heated room would've suffocated me. I pushed through the crowd, and onto outside. There was graffiti on the brick wall on the café, and I sat on a wooden box. I was still trying to calm down my erratic, thumping heartbeat, and calm down my pumped-up nerves.

That was when I wasn't alone. "Hey, there," said a feminine voice, and I looked up, shocked to be face-to-face with the bassist. From the stage, he looked regal and a know-it-all, but up close, he looked uncertain. I looked closer, and I noticed something that should have been a "duh!" I notice how long his eye lashes were, how wide his mouth was, how long his swan neck was. And then I noticed he had a curvy bust on his chest.

He was a she.

I blush from not realizing it before, and I feel stupid. She did, after all, have black, boy-ish cut hair to make the darkness of her black skin appear to glow, but her lashes were long, and she had dark brown eyes that were so pretty. She had on an Old Navy baseball shirt, blue skinny jeans, and Vans. She was kinda hot.

"Nice skills up there," I said, and struggled with a smile. I stuffed my hands in my jeans. Let me just say, this was way before I lost my virginity a few months later, and I had no experience in the girl department. I just thought I'd defend myself.

She smiled, her full lips pulling back to show teeth. "Thanks." She stuffed her own hands in her back pockets, and looked up at me. From the florescent lighting of the alley, her hair looked so black, it was blue. I liked it that way.

I offered up the empty space next to me and she sat down next to me, spreading her legs out in front of her. She clicked the toes of her Vans together like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.

"How did you get here?" she asked her shoes. "I mean, McCroff's isn't exactly a popular café, at least not around here in Bridgewater…" She glanced up at me expectantly.

"Oh, a friend of mine goes up here sometimes," I said, shrugging. "Samuel. We're from Andover, down South." She nodded as I finished off my explanation.

"Samuel… Was that the Goth-guy you were hanging out with?" I smiled a little, nodding too.

"So," I said conversationally. "How long have you been a part of Coal Skillets?"

She bit her lip. "Well, Xander is my half-brother, Van's my cousin, and Kudos's just a friend of my brother. Since Xander's always played the lead guitar, I kinda wanted to follow in his footsteps. Van's just crazy—which explains his mental stability when he's playing the drums. And Kudos's voice is just…" She paused, searching for a word.

"Beautiful?" I offer. She smiles and nods again in approval. I blushed a bit at calling another dude's voice "beautiful", but sometimes, you just can't describe something so hypnotic and captivating other than that.

"What about you? You into music?" I heard the hope flitting around in her voice, and I felt a little disappointed in myself that I couldn't have something to talk about with her.

I shook my head, and averted my eyes when I see her shoulders sag. "Well, not into playing music," I said quickly. "I listen to a lot of music though—it's kind of like an addiction. I've gotta listen to every band known to man—even if they kinda suck really bad." She giggled, nodding her head. "I kinda of listen to the classics, mostly. But I like the newer stuff, too, but they just can't make music like they did in the sixties and seventies, not like they used to."

"I can totally agree," she said, smiling. "Although… It's way better to play things for yourself. Way better. Maybe you could try it sometime—I mean, you should. It can be amazing sometimes. The experience is like nothing else." Her brown eyes got a bit hazy, remembering a past memory, and I leave her be for a few moments, letting her remember. She blinked once, twice, before smiling bashfully. "But, whatever you want to do. It doesn't matter as long as you love doing it. Then… Then it's worth everything."

There was a pause of silence as we stared at the brick wall in front of us, enjoying and soaking up the comfortable silence between each other. We heard the door to outside open, revealing the lead guitarist—Xander—and his blond hair sticking to his forehead. As soon as his eyes landed on the girl next to be, his face relaxed until he saw me. His brows narrowed.

"Hey, it's time to go," he said, looking right at me. The girl next to me nodded and stood up. I stood up, too, not really wanting her to go. I'd never had a conversation like that before with any girl before—or anyone, really.

"Wait!" I called. She stopped on her tracks and stared at me. Yeah? Her expectant expression had said, and I swallowed thickly.

"What's your name?" I asked, suddenly needing to know. I wasn't sure why it was so important to me at the time, and I still am not sure, but I felt as if it were important to know.

She smiled, and I committed her face and form to memory. I never wanted to forget her, and, really, I never would. Not after the connection—however brief—we had that night. She let me sweat it out a minute before whispering her name, so sweet coming out of her mouth that I wanted to snatch her words out of the air and slip them into my pocket.

"Stephanie," she said simply. "Stephanie Chaos. Call me Steph." She paused for a moment before saying, "And you?"

"Alexander," I said back, smiling. "Alexander Jones. But call me Alex."


She wasn't there, just like any other time we went. She was like a ghost, haunting me. But after the gigs in McCroff's, we went to Sam's basement and pulled out our own instruments to jam ourselves. When I plugged in my bass, I heard the low buzz it made in the amplifier. Sam stroked his electric guitar lightly, smiling faintly at the beauty it made. Trey's fingers flew across the keys on his keyboard, his hands dancing across. Steven slammed his drum sticks, or "chop sticks" as he likes to call them, down on the symbols so hard it almost sounded as if they would snap in half. Steve's been to hell and back again with his chop sticks, held together by duct tape and glue, with writings all over it. They were always on him, whether you could see it on him or not.

"So, guys, what are we playing?" Samuel asks, raising his eye brows. He was perched on the edge of the brown leather stool that was supplied in Steve's basement, along with a bar filled with the kind of pop we all liked. Trey was switching around the sounds his keyboard was playing, his bony fingers playing accurately and perfectly—just like always. I was going to miss summers like this.

"I have a song," I say, gripping my jeans tightly. It was a song, a certain song I couldn't get out of my head. And, probably most importantly, it was one of the songs Coal Skillet sang that night, though with the absence of her. Sam and Steve nodded at me, and I presented them the crumpled up notebook piece of paper that had made its home in my pocket. I had to write down the lyrics so I wouldn't forget and they were beautiful. I look of recognition crossed Samuel's face, but he said nothing.

"You sing and supply us with the tune, and we'll follow," is all Sam said before he tuned up his guitar. I swallow—I'd never liked singing. It wasn't that I was a bad singer, but it was always embarrassing to sing in front of your friends.

I clear my throat, and played the tune I remembered so fondly from that night so long ago. The words were gorgeous and everything perfect. I just hope I gave it justice.

Forever, Infinity, Eternally

We'll be together

Perfectly for eternity

Until we're gone, gone, gone

For forever on perpetuity

Time without end

That's where we'll be

For forever

For infinity


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