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thevickb

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Swooping his long, dark fringe out of his deep, sea bleu eyes he took the stage. Taking a step forwards towards the mic, facing a crowd of more than five hundred. As he looked, a feeling of nausea took over. Clenching his fists tightly in his palm, he urged himself closer. Putting his hands over his mouth, he resisted the temptation of being sick, swallowing hard and forcing it back down his throat. His throat now burning him and sending him into a frenzy fit of coughing. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down, so that he could overcome his fear. The crowd cheered and yelled more than ever, becoming impatient and waiting for him to get on with the concert. With his heart now beating faster than a rhythm of a drum, he took the mic and forced a smile. This wasn’t the first time that nerves had got the better of him. Ever since he was small, he’d always had a fear of the stage. He was nothing like his father when it came to performing.

As he sang, the crowd cheered loudly, their arms waving franticly in the air, shouting back the lyrics to the chorus “Love is a drug. It’s an addiction”

It was his father’s famous song. Everyone had loved it back in the eighties, just ten years before he was born. His father Lexy Lewis was one of the greatest rock stars in the world. But he hated the song. It sounded false. To him the lyrics were just a load of lies. He wanted to believe that love was so much more than that. But as his father said, “Love and drugs are the meaning of life.” Although he didn’t really want to believe that. He didn’t understand how that could be. But he’d never been in love before. And he’d never taken drugs. So he didn’t really know what it was like. He just didn’t think that drugs had any meaning at all. All they did was ruin lives. He knew that.

Looking at the crowd, his voice finished the last word. And he let out a smile. A real one this time. This should be the best bit. His father had said so. It was his first time performing at a concert before, and he was already more than keen to get off the stage. So he could at last feel free. He looked around, searching for his father. He said he’d be their for him when he’d finished. He was doing this for him after all. To just make his father happy. But his father was nowhere to be seen. So much for supporting me he thought to himself.

Then the crowd suddenly became louder, sounds of anger could be heard at whoever was now entering the hall. At first he thought it was his father, all doubt inside him disappearing. But only when he looked up did he notice the bright flash of something. And the fear welled up inside him. He’d been afraid this would happen. Why did this have to happen here? Where he felt the most vulnerable? Another bright flash occurred just through the crowd. They were getting closer. He stood still on the spot. He wanted to move but he just found himself staying put as if he were glued to the floor.

Then he saw them. News reporters. Dozens of them, dashing left and right pushing helpless people out of their way to get to him first. He wondered how they had gotten. Maybe his father had allowed them to enter. Take pictures. Ask him private questions about his life. No. Why would he do that to him? He wouldn’t. His father knew how much the camera’s scared him. He wouldn’t do that. They grew close to him; questions were being fired at him at the same time.

“Zeppelin Lee!” They called his name repeatedly.

“How does it feel singing the song of your fathers?” The voice of Andrea Dixon echoed through the hall.