The Advancing Guitarist Novels & Stories

I can't believe we're a having a date here in my safe haven. Eliijah is standing proudly while watching me intently sashayed my way to where he's standing. He's holding a brown looking high quality guitar which I don't know the reason why. And when the man in front of me move his long fingers to make love along with the strings I feel euphoric. Lift your head, baby, don't be scared Of the things that could go wrong along the way You'll get by with a smile You can't win at everything but you can try

That guitar was possibly one of the coolest things I owned and seeing her so drawn to it for no apparent reason made me feel some type of way. Her long, delicate fingers caressed the polished red body of the instrument and I couldn't help but make my way over to her so that I could see the amazement that sparkled in her eyes. "It was Angus Young's" I announced, my words cutting through the silent room like a knife as I stood just behind her.

Silvia muttered, forgetting that it had already happened. “I’ve been playing her ever since, y’know? Keeping her always close, letting her know how I like her to sound for me. And she’s always been there. The best of all guitars. A little hot-headed, a little stubborn, a little nuts. But hey, it’s my guitar, right?” He let people laugh and shout for a moment. “So she’s the best fucking guitar, come to me in the best fucking storm ever.” Something caught his attention from the first rows in the pit and he chuckled, nodding again.

"Gibson guitars are known for it's distinct tone and quality! It's made out of solid mahogany." “Dude, who cares?” Tom muttered. “He’s so annoying,” Regina commented. “Looks like Taylor turned Charlie into a babysitter for his freak of a brother,” Archie sneered. “I’m not a freak. I’m special and smart,” Tristan said, defending himself. “I’m very good at playing the guitar too. I can play again. I’m talented. Do you want to hear?” Tristan began strumming another song, eager to prove himself, but Archie’s irritation spiked.

I'm not here to fuck around. I'm here to fuck it up. We're in the middle of one of our ballbusters, "Thought You'd Start to Care", which has one of our jam sections and, boy, are we flying tonight. My fingers are flying across the neck of my guitar and I'm sweating like hell, hair dripping, t-shirt sticking to my back. I lift my eyes to check on Holden. He's on his feet at the keyboard, totally lost in the sauce. I smile to myself.

"Okay, let me try" I held the head of the guitar with my left hand, then I put my right fingers on the strings. He crawled on the sheet, behind me and held my left fist to the guitar, then he arched my right finger and pulled the first string. I didn't understand the chord but then it was beautiful. Soon I found myself playing titanic theme with his assistance.