Musician Stories Novels & Stories

“I don’t want to make another album just because people expect one.” “What do you want?” “I want to tell real stories.” He looked through the glass toward the musicians. “Stories about fear.” “Hope.” “Second chances.” “Finding your way home.” His producer smiled. “That’s the best idea you’ve had in years.” Cassian laughed. “I think almost losing everything changes what you want to say.” “Then let’s make the kind of album people remember.” For the rest of the afternoon, they explored melodies and lyrics without worrying about charts or streaming numbers. For the first time in years…

I tighten my grip on the mic. “I’m here to tell you who I actually am,” I add. “And what happened. To me. To girls like me. To the songs you scream along to without knowing what they cost.” We intercut the talk with songs. Acoustic versions. Stripped. There is no backing track to hide behind. Between each performance, I tell a piece of the story. Not as PR. As testimony. We talk about nineteen. Basement studios. Managers with too‑white smiles.

He pushed me to explore new styles and techniques, to break free from the constraints of perfection and embrace the imperfections that make music truly powerful. Word of our encounter spread, and soon, musicians and artists from all over flocked to the village, seeking inspiration from the mysterious pianist and his muse. Together, we created a community of artists, bound by our shared passion for authenticity and creativity. In this hidden sanctuary, I found solace and renewal. The music that flowed through me took on a new life, an embodiment of the pain and joy I had experienced. The melodies became my voice, expressing the depths of my emotions in a way words never could.

A hermit who is able to create illusions, who can trick people by the impossible, temporary but enough real scenarios. That lady was also not real, and you know what? I had a dream of becoming a hermit in my younger days. I was also interested in the search for knowledge and peace in myself, sometimes to trick people and sometimes to help them. But unfortunately and yet I am enjoying this job of being a narrator. I have seen many things, many changes throughout the million years of my existence and see where I'm sitting now, in a small cafe all alone sipping the wine from this huge glass. Telling you an epic, maybe a myth but with facts. Who could imagine that the most powerful being is actu

I heard Kevin say as he walked over to me and took hold of my hand bringing me. “I’m all alone,” I sang the song that’s been ringing the whole time as I sat listening to the stories. “Yeah, Xania is totally wasted,” One of the girls said and I smiled drunkenly before I continued singing a different song from the previous one. “And I don’t caaaareee,” I sang as I wrapped my arm around Kevin's neck. “Hmm? I thought I heard Xania singing,” Leo said and I looked at him and winked, we both fell into a fit of laughter. “Another song,” he muttered before closing his eyes and I giggled.

"When did you start singing?" "My parents have video of me dancing and singing in a walker before I could actually walk. I don't remember a time that I didn't love music." "Why hard rock?" "It speaks to me but then so does Sinatra, Eminem, and Adele. I love to write music and I'm lucky that others are willing to sing my non-rock ballads. For me, music is about the story. I never understand when someone says they don't like rap or country. Some of the best stories come from those genres. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the fans, excitement, and fame. It's a high in itself. This won't last forever and I want to enjoy every day until it's over."