Song Lyric Stories – Spin

This episode of SLS is based on the suggestion of my brother Twindaddy. The lyrics he gave me come from the song Spin by my namesake, the band Revis. Spin is one of my favorite songs of theirs, so I want to do this story justice. Hopefully, I succeed.

“I’m a space god in the rain.” Spin – Revis

“This is not the warmest welcome I have ever received,” I remarked.

A fist came flying at me. It’s been a long time since someone tried to punch me. Back then, it didn’t go too well for the being who tried it. The being who tried it this time met with equal failure. His fist hit the chin of my physical manifestation and shattered. Not just his fist, but all the way up to his shoulder too. He cradled his ruined arm with his other and backed slowly away.

“I am impressed that you were able to hide this place for as long as you did,” I said as if nothing happened. “But did you really think that you could create an entire planet within my space and I would never find out about it?”

“I’ll kill you,” he raged, his eyes burning with hatred and anger.

I laughed. “That threat would scare the pitiful creatures who worship you here, but I remain unafraid. You created a planet. You also created life on it, so you do have some power to you. Next to me, however, your power is nothing.” Gesturing up to the night sky, I continued, “Look at it all. Every star, every heavenly body, even every speck of dust floating in my beautiful vast blackness is doing so because that is how I want it.”

Just then, the sky overhead filled with dark clouds. Lightning and thunder filled the area as rain began to fall. “I don’t see any of that,” the puny godling laughed at me.

“You know, I was going to let your creatures continue to live and worship me. It has been a long time, after all, since I have let anything live long enough to do so.” My mood suddenly shifted from lighthearted to something a little more menacing. “Because you wanted to be difficult, however, I think that I will now destroy every living thing on this planet in front of your eyes. Then, when I have finished with that, I will destroy you.”


With nothing more than a thought, I pinned the godling to the ground and proceeded to do as I told him I would. Every living thing on his planet floated before his eyes only to be unmade in a grisly, painful fashion. As it happened, more rain began to fall. I reveled in it, basking in the tears of a lesser god.

It ended far too quickly for my taste, so I made him replay it in his mind a few times. I do not know how long it took. It could have been mere moments. It could have been many centuries. Either way, his torture eventually stopped being fun. I took one last pause to bathe in the drops falling upon my physical manifestation before putting him out of his misery. With a few well placed blows I destroyed his body. Then I used my powers to erase the rest of him from reality.

Bored, I surveyed the rest of my quadrant of the galaxy, looking for something to do.

Song Lyric Stories- Fade In/Fade Out

This episode of SLS is a little different than the previous ones. This time, I picked the lyrics myself instead of being prompted by one of my awesome readers. I’ll get back to the prompts next time, but I had a month’s worth of posts to write, so I changed it up a little bit with some lyrics from a Nothing More song.

“I have watched you fade in, you will watch me fade out. When the grip leaves my hand, I know you won’t let me down.” Nothing More – Fade In/Fade Out

“I’ve done it, Father,” he announced as he strolled into the throne room triumphantly. “I have led our army to victory against the Awntish.”

He knew that runners had already beaten him back to the castle with the news, but he enjoyed making a grand entrance because it embarrassed his dad. Despite being mid-day, however, his father’s throne was empty. Surprised, he looked around for someone to ask what was going on. His father’s steward entered the room, saw who had made the noise, ran up to him, and bowed. “Prince Wellton,” the steward began.

“Where is he?” Wellton interrupted.

“Your Highness, you may want to prepare yourself…”

“Where is he?” Wellton yelled.

“In his bedchamber.”

Wellton rushed out of the room and ran to his father’s bedchamber. When he got there, his father was in his bed, surrounded by healers. They scrambled to get out of his way as he approached. His heart broke when he was finally close enough to see his father’s condition. The king was rail thin, pale, and appeared to be incredibly weak. Wellton wrapped his hand around his father’s, but made sure to be careful. He was afraid that if he squeezed at all, he may break bones.

“Father,” he said with tears running down his cheeks. “What’s wrong with you?”

The king opened his eyes, saw his son by his bedside, and smiled, revealing wrinkles that Wellton hadn’t seen before. “I got old,” the king chuckled before having a coughing fit.

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“I’ve been old for a long time now. You just never noticed it before. When you’re with someone every day, you don’t see how they change over time. It wasn’t until you were away from me that you saw it.”

Wellton shook his head in denial. “Why haven’t the healers cured you yet?”

“There is no cure, magical or otherwise, for time. It’s a foe none of us can defeat.”

More tears flowed. Wellton knew his father had given up and was just waiting on death to claim him. “What will I do without you?”

“You will do what you’ve always done,” the king responded in a voice continuously growing weaker. “You will protect our kingdom from invaders, just like you did against the Awntish. You will be a fair and just king, just as you were a fair and just prince. You will be a good husband to your wife and a good father to my granddaughter, and any other child you may have after I’m gone.”

“I don’t know if I can do all that without you here to guide me.”

With a squeeze of his hand, the king whispered, “I know you can.”

Wellton felt his father’s hand go limp. He looked into the king’s eyes, but there was no life left in them. His father, the king, was gone. He began sobbing uncontrollably. The healers hurried to get out of the room, leaving the prince to his grief. Once they were gone, Wellton brought his father’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I won’t let you down, Father. I promise.”

Song Lyric Stories – Just Be

In this episode of Song Lyric Stories, I’m tackling the last of the original suggestions of my writing partner, Matticus. It was a song I’d never heard before. It’s an… odd song. It has pop style vocals over music generally saved for Mortal Kombat movie soundtracks. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Also, I’m out of suggestions from my original post, so if anyone out there not named Matticus (you’ve already had 4 of your suggestions used!) has a line or two (or three) from a song that they’d like see turned into a short story by me, please drop them in the comments.

“I was lost and I’m still lost but I feel so much better.” Tiesto – Just Be

When he walked down the street, people had a tendency to either point and laugh at him, or move to get out of his way. He couldn’t blame them. He was aware of how haggard his appearance was. Part of his ragged state was intentional. The rest was attributed to his lack of caring. It had been a long time since he cared about anything. Every time he did, it ended in failure, pain, or both. There was a brief window when that wasn’t true, but even that came to an end.

His time in the Army had started off well. He was a good soldier. He had excelled in everything he attempted and he quickly climbed the ranks. The other soldiers took to him and gladly followed his lead. When the Army choose him to be part of a secret project, he thought it was the culmination of all his hard work. He thought he would finally leave his painful past behind.

But he didn’t.

The Army experimented on him. It didn’t go like they wanted and they labeled him a failure. The failure label hurt him. Still, h was determined to move on. He thought he would go back to his life as a normal soldier, but the Army didn’t want him around anymore. They discharged him, gave him some hush money, and sent him on his way. Dejected, he wandered around aimlessly, not knowing what he should do next.

He eventually came across a place that he thought needed his help. That time started off well too. He used what the Army had given him to save someone’s life and help the police put a criminal behind bars. Life was looking up again for just a brief moment before it all came crashing down. After someone he tried to protect died, he was labeled a failure once more.

Wandering around aimlessly since that time, he found himself in a small town, being laughed at by kids and ostracized by their parents. He stepped off the sidewalk, into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant. With the money the Army had given him, he could afford a much nicer meal. The fight he’d have with the restaurant staff over seating someone dressed as shabby as him wasn’t worth it, though. Just as he opened the door to go inside, he heard a woman scream from behind him. His head snapped to the side and he saw a man in the parking lot who was trying to rob a woman as she was getting into her car.

“Let her go,” he demanded as he stepped away from the door and down off curb.

“Go get your dollar menu meal, you hobo, and mind your business,” the robber returned.

“Let her go,” he repeated, taking a couple more steps toward them. “Now!”

The robber loosed his grip on the woman’s arm and pulled a knife from his pocket. “I was just looking for a little money, but it looks like I found some fun too.”

Instead of being intimidated by his opponent having a weapon, he smiled. The robber wasn’t expecting that. The robber also wasn’t expecting him to reach inside his tattered shirt and grab his own nipple. “Whoa! Wait. What are you doing?” the robber asked with some trepidation in his voice. He slowly twisted the nipple. “What the…”

The robber never got a chance to finish the question. In one quick, fluid motion, he ripped his nipple off and threw it sidearm like a Frisbee. It covered the distance between them in a flash, striking the robber in the middle of his forehead. The knife hit the ground as the robber wobbled and tried to stay on his feet. In the end, it didn’t matter. He had followed his thrown nipple, closing to melee range and landed a combination of punches that put the robber on his backside. With practiced ease, he flipped the robber onto his stomach and tied his hands together with the zip ties he began carrying with him when he thought he was going to be a city’s superhero. He actually forgot he still carried them until then.

“Thank you!”

He turned to see the woman had walked up to him. Her phone was in her hand and he knew that she had just called the police. Answering their questions was going to be a hassle that he didn’t want to deal with. “You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before starting to walk away.

“Wait! You’re not staying?”

“Not today, ma’am.”

“What am I supposed to tell the cops?”

“Tell them the truth.” He smiled. “Tell them DICO saved you.”


He ignored her question and turned his walk into a jog. The smile was still on his face. His future may still be unclear, but if he could save someone, like he just did, every once in a while, it might not be that bad.

Song Lyric Stories – Wish You Were Here

This episode of SLS features the first song that’s been suggested that I actually like. Not that I’ve hated any of the other songs. I just wouldn’t listen to them without being prompted to. It’s the song Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. I’m not a huge fan of theirs, but I do like some of their stuff.

“Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?”

He knelt on the cold pavement with tears running down his cheeks. His arms cradled the man who had saved his life. It was the same man who had spent years cradling him. The same man who had picked him up and brushed him off whenever he fell down. The same man who had helped give him life.

Footsteps echoed on the street behind him. He didn’t turn to see who it was. He knew who they belonged to. The man who killed his father now stood at his back. With a gun. And it was pointed at his head. Even if he had eyes in the back of his head, he couldn’t see it any clearer.

“I wasn’t aiming for him,” the shooter informed him.

“I know,” he sobbed.

As much as he wanted to blame the man who pulled the trigger, he knew he had nobody to blame except himself. It was his fault this happened. He was the one who ignored his dad and started hanging out with the wrong people. He was the one who talked trash about the wrong people. He was the one who stole from the wrong people.

The cold metal of the gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. He waited for the trigger pull. It never came. Instead, he heard the man chuckle. “Normally, I’d kill anyone stupid enough to steal from me, but I think I like this punishment better.”

Through his tears, he saw movement off to the side. He turned his head slightly and saw his father standing on the sidewalk. The impossibility of it slapped him across the face. His father lay dead in his arms. There was no way he could be standing anywhere else. He took a closer look and noticed that he could see through the image of his father. Either he was hallucinating or he was seeing his father’s ghost. Either way, he was expecting to see anger or disappointment on his father’s face. That wasn’t what he saw.

His father’s face wore a smile that almost broke him in two. The expression of happiness told him exactly how much his father loved him. It told him that, provided he changed his ways, his father would still be there with him and everything would be all right.

“But if I ever see you again,” the shooter threatened as the barrel was pushed harder against his skull, “I will put a bullet in your brain.”

With one last look at his father’s ghost, he took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Don’t worry,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “You’ll never see me again.”

Song Lyric Stories: I’m On Fire

Another suggestion by my writing partner Matticus, this episode of SLS is based on lyrics from the Bruce Springsteen song I’m On Fire. Like the last song he suggested, I’m not a big fan of this one either. Maybe it’s because (to me, at least) there are times in this song where he sounds more like Elvis than he does Bruce Springsteen.

“At night I wake up with my sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through my head.” Springsteen – I’m On Fire

It happened again. I was on the tracks, frozen, while the train was bearing down on me. I stood there as the light kept getting closer and closer. The roar of the engine getting louder and louder. Then, just before it hit me, I tried to dive out of the way. But it was too late.

I fought to catch my breath after screaming myself awake. The darkness of my room did nothing to alleviate the panic which made it feel like my heart was pounding its way out of my chest. The lamp on my nightstand burst into life when I hit the switch and I took a big gulp from the water cup sitting next to it. My hands shook while I put the glass back down. This was the tenth night in a row that I’d had the same exact dream. You’d think going through it that many times would make it easier to deal with, but you’d be wrong. It actually makes it worse.

The clock on my phone said it was midnight. I’d only been asleep for around an hour before the dream assaulted me. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, but it didn’t do much for the sweat I had running down toward my eyes. Running my hands over it, I found that my pillow, sheets, and blanket were all damp. It felt like I had showered, then jumped into bed without drying off first.

I took my shirt off and wiped my arms and face with it. After tossing the wet garment into the laundry basket, I sat up and turned the television on. I knew I needed to sleep, but I didn’t want to. If I fell back asleep, the dream would haunt me again. It always did. So, I looked through my various streaming services until I found a movie to watch. Halfway through, I felt my eyelids becoming heavy. I tried to fight it, but the fatigue I was feeling was just too much. My eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.

I heard it first. The unmistakable sound of a train approaching. Engine churning. Horn blaring. My head turned to see it round the corner and continue racing down the tracks toward me. I had been walking away, but the sight of the train’s light froze me again. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move. The fear was paralyzing, which always confused me. There was plenty of time for me to step off the tracks and it’s not like the train could veer off to hit me. Although, this was a dream, so maybe it could.

The horn blared again, loud enough to hurt my ears. None of the other dreams had a horn that loud. Then again, the sky was lighter than it had been in any of my previous dreams. It was almost dawn. Did that mean something? Did that mean that I was closing in on the end of these dreams?

Another loud horn. The train was only ten feet away. Normally, this was where I would wake up, but I still couldn’t move. Sparks were flying from the train hitting the brakes. That was another first. Something about this didn’t feel right. Then the breeze brushed my face and I knew.

I knew that this time it wasn’t a dream.

Song Lyric Stories – Love Minus Zero

On this “episode” of Song Lyric Stories, I’m going to tackle the first suggestion made by my writing partner, Matticus. Unlike the first story suggestion, I hadn’t heard this particular song before getting the quote. After listening to the song, I wish I could go back in time to when I’d never heard it before. Sorry, Matticus, but it’s not my cup of tea… mostly because I don’t drink tea. Tea is gross.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, right. Here’s the Song Lyric Story for the line from Bob Dylan’s Love Minus Zero.

“My love, she speaks like silence, without ideals or violence.”

He sat in his chair, watching her work. Each piece was carefully placed. It wasn’t always in the right spot at first, but she was quick to fix it. He helped when she got stuck, though he let her do most of it herself. She wouldn’t learn, wouldn’t get better, if he did it all for her.

She smiled when she figured out a particularly challenging piece. He smiled right along with her. He thought she’d stop and say something to him, but she went right to work on the next part. It was tempting to call it quits for the day. They’d been working on it for a while now and his back was starting to hurt from sitting in that chair for so long. One look at her smiling face told him that he was going to be sitting in the chair for a little longer.

The sound of their work filled the room as they continued what they were doing. Neither said anything. They didn’t need to. Her hands moved the pieces about as he continued to watch her. She was quickening her rhythm as she got closer to the end. Pretty soon, there were only two pieces left. He waited for her to place them in their spots, but instead she picked them up. She placed one of them in his hand and nodded. They placed their pieces down at the same time.

They stood up and looked down at the puzzle they just completed, then back at each other. She jumped at him with a giggle. He caught her in his arms and brought her up to his eye level. Her arms wrapped around his neck. “I love it when we play, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I love it too,” he replied and kissed her on the cheek. “I love it too.”

Song Lyric Stories – L.A. Woman

I had a little bit of time yesterday, so I was able to bang out a story from the first of the Song Lyric Story suggestions. I could probably break this up into two parts, but I decided it would be better to make this into one long post rather than two short ones. The lyrics for this story come from the song L.A. Woman by The Doors and was suggested by Wakizashi33.

P.S. If there’s anyone from L.A. reading this, and you notice some inaccuracies in my descriptions of anything, please note that I’ve never been to L.A. and I’m just guessing. I looked up the name of a motel on Google and picked the first one I saw that was close to the airport and had the word “motel” in the name. Everything else I tried to keep as vague as possible to avoid any inaccuracies.

“Are you a lucky little lady in the city of light / Or just another lost angel, city of night. Motel money murder madness / Let’s change the mood from glad to sadness.”

She peeked out through the curtains to the parking lot below. The second story room she now occupied wasn’t what she wanted. She requested a room on the ground floor, but the desk clerk of the Patio Motel insisted that none of them were available. It was tempting to go to a different hotel for the night. Despite what she wanted, there was no such thing as a perfect place. She also didn’t want to go much further away from the airport than she already had. According to her internet search, it was a twenty minute car ride from the motel to LAX and she wasn’t willing to push it much more than that. So, the Patio Motel was where she stayed.

None of the cars in the lot were different than they were when she looked outside fifteen minutes ago. A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. Twelve hours ago, she thought she was the luckiest woman in all of Los Angeles. Now she was running for her life, hiding in a hotel until her flight left in the morning. The saddest part of it, in her mind at least, is that she didn’t even know who she was running from. She’d never seen either of the men before they started chasing her.

It all started that morning, on her way to work. On her way out the door, she grabbed her full trash bag to drop it into the can outside. When she opened the lid, she caught a bright red canvas bag sitting in the bottom before she put the trash on top of it. Setting the garbage down, she pulled the canvas bag out and inspected it. She’d never seen it before. It was in pretty good condition, so why had someone thrown it away? Why did they throw it away in her can? And why was it so heavy?

Even at their heaviest, none of her purses had ever weighed this much. She guessed that it had to weigh at least fifty pounds. When she opened it, she saw why. It was money. A lot of money. Nothing but stacks and stacks of hundred dollar bills. Easily a million dollars, she thought. Maybe even two million. It was hard for her to be sure. The only time she’d ever seen that much money all at once was in movies.

Her first thought was conflicted. Did she take the money for herself or should she call the police? Her head was screaming at her to do the latter. It told her that no good would come of this. That’s when her heart interjected, saying that a lot of good could come from it. With that much money, she could help her sister pay for her chemotherapy. She could finally afford to get her father into the assisted living facility that he needed to be in. Both of them were being crushed by their medical bills. This money would make it all go away.

They both lived in Atlanta, where her aunt was taking care of them. As soon as her heart won the argument, she took her phone out and booked a flight for the following morning. After that, she called her boss and told him that something had come up and she needed to go out of town for a few days. He threatened to fire her if she didn’t come in. She said she’d be back next week. When she hung up, she smiled. She’d never set foot in that place again. Even if he didn’t fire her, she wasn’t going back. That was fine with her. She hated that job anyway.

Once she was off the phone, she walked back inside and moved the money from the red bag to something a little less conspicuous. There was a plain black backpack in her closet from her school days. It was a tight fight, but she was able to get all the money into the bag. Well, all except for the handful of bills she pulled out to use that day. She had a long day of shopping planned. The backpack got tossed into the trunk of her car so it couldn’t be seen through the windows. She put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life.

A loud knock on her driver’s side window made her jump. There was a large white male in a black suit leaning down so that his face was level with hers. She looked over to the other window to see a similarly dressed Asian man at her passenger’s side window. Both of them sported short, close cropped hair like they have in the Army. They also both had one hand inside of their suit jackets. “Julia Parker,” the white man said loudly. “Get out of the car! Right now!”

What happened next was a blur to her. The car shifted into drive, though she didn’t remember doing it herself. Her foot jammed down on the gas. The back tires slid for just a split second before they found purchase and her car surged forward. A few seconds later, she heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire. It was followed immediately, almost instantaneously, by a thunk on the back of her car. They’re shooting at me, her panicked mind realized. Without thinking, she ran a stop sign and turned off her street, almost getting clipped by another car in the process.

For the next five hours, she drove mindlessly around the city. After what happened, she knew that she should go to the police. She also knew that if she did that, she wouldn’t get to keep the money that her sister and her dad sorely needed. All she had to do was make it to her flight. Once she was in a plane to Georgia, she would feel safe. So, she found the Patio Motel, checked in, and spent her time pacing back and forth. Well, the time she didn’t spend looking out the window, anyway.

Julia glanced at the backpack on the bed. Then she looked down at her car in the parking lot. She had backed it in so she could leave in a hurry if she saw those men again. Two bullet holes marred the trunk lid. They were so close together that they looked like eyes, staring at her. Judging her. Julia dropped her gaze to the floor and turned away from the window to resume her pacing.

The door came flying toward her.

In fright, Julia shrieked and dropped to the ground. It wasn’t until she hit the floor that she realized the door was still on its hinges. Despite all of the locks being engaged, someone had kicked it in. She wasn’t even a little surprised when she saw the large man who was at her driver’s side window. He strolled into the room like he didn’t have a care in the world. The Asian man followed in right behind, a large pistol in his hand. Without a word, the man fired.

Pain. Just pain. She didn’t know how else to describe it. Her stomach was nothing but an intense ball of agony. Julia looked down where it was coming from. Her hands had reflexively gone to the source. Blood seeped through her fingers at an alarming rate. She knew if she didn’t get help soon, she was going to bleed out.

“I’ve found a way to pay for both yours and dad’s medical bills,” the large man said.

Julia looked up at him and saw that he was holding her phone. He was reading a text message she had sent her sister an hour ago. Then he read her sister’s response, “How’d you manage to do that?”

The large man smiled before he read Julia’s answer, “I got really lucky.” Both men chuckled at that. The large man dropped her phone onto the bed and squatted down next to her. “Tell me, Julia,” he began, “do you still feel lucky?”

“I… I feel… cold.” She paused before asking, “Why are you doing this?”

The men laughed again. “You have two and a half million of our dollars,” the Asian man said. “Do you really need to ask why?”

“And before you ask how we found you,” the large man added, “there’s a small tracking device hidden in one of the money stacks. We’ve been waiting down the street for a few hours now. We were hoping you’d fall asleep before we did this.”

The Asian man fired again. More pain. This time from around her left shoulder. Blackness started creeping in around the edges of her vision. “I’ve got to admit, I like you,” the large man told her. “There’s not a lot of people who would have the guts to run from us. I’ll tell you what, just for that, I’ll go ahead and take care of those medical bills for you.”

Julia smiled as her vision continued to fade. The large man grabbed the backpack and the two men started walking toward the door. The Asian man turned to his partner. “Are you really going to do that?”

“Nah,” the large man laughed, “but what’s the harm in giving her some hope before she dies?”

Blackness engulfed all of her vision. For a brief second, she thought her family would be taken care of after she was gone. Even though she was dying, she was glad that she could do this for them. Now, after hearing the man’s declaration, that had changed to sadness and anger. Julia drifted off into death upset that those were the last emotions she’d ever feel.