In Little Joy and Much Sorrow

Lucy has a stroke of luck at a HIM concert, when she has the chance to go backstage. But soon she sees it might actually be a stroke of bad luck and soon she finds herself in a whirlwind of HIMesque emotion. For the Backstage contest. Sentences and phrases in italics are references to song lyrics by HIM. Listen to the songs whilst reading the chapters for a more vivid reading experience. [Rated Yellow due to alcohol use , drug use and strong language].

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2. Venus Doom


I've been murdered in water and drowning in flame. I tried to prove him wrong but he scared me away. I admit my defeat and walk back home. I trudge  up the stairs, and when I reach my bed I collapse on it, my eyes heavy and stinging.

***

When I wake up, I open my eyes with a sigh of relief. The sadness of last night seemto have washed away. The warmth of summer sunlight dances around me. My vision flicks to the poster of Ville Valo holding dead leaves in his hands. Instead of a pang in my stomach as I was expecting, I feel a surge of anger. What an idiot. He wasn't the amazing rock God I thought he was. I tear down the poster, rolling it up and tying an elastic band around it. Then, I chuck it across the room. I look at it with scorn. 'To cry would be to know that you're alive. But my river of tears has run dry,' I thought. 

I realise I'm still in my clothes from last night that my eyeliner is still in smudgy streaks down my cheeks and I sigh in despair. Right. Clothes. Wash. Get it all out of my system. I do just that. After that, I decide to take in some fresh air, so I wrap up in my baggy coat, slip on some plimsols, grab my rucksack and head out the door. Across the road is the bus parked up at the stop. My hands jangle the change in my pocket and I figure I have enough for a ride and back.

When I approach the bus, I saw ,' W.H ARENA' in the dotted orange letters in lights at the front. I take a sharp intake of breath. That was where...that was...no, I couldn't go there. Feel like I'm being pulled into a black hole. I hold onto the handle on the bus. What am I actually doing? This crazy feeling's screwing with my head. They'll be gone be now. I'm overloadin' and my gauges are red. Why do I want to do this anyway after last night? State of confusion's got a hold on me. I close my eyes and tilt my head back. The journey was going to be a long one.

 

***

A finger taps my shoulder. "I'm guessing this is your stop?" the person says. I nod, my vision blurry and stumble off the bus. All my dreams are of you, my Venus Doom.  I feel so intoxicated, though I'd never touch the drink. The tall arena looms over me and I think to myself how unglamorous it looks compared from last night.

Down the alleyway, a  light flickers , it's dying song waiting for a reason to keep going on.  A shadow with rumpled hair seems to follow the light. It only takes a moment for me to guess who it is. A wash of fear spreads over me, but at the same time I don't feel like I can just leave. I got here because my gut or some force took me here, so I should see this through. Though, I do lean against the wall leading through the alleyway instead of going into it. “Ville?” I call, my voice wavering. 

 

“Who the fuck are you?” he shouts.

I wring my hands. “Uhm, we met last night.”

A puff of smoke rings came down the alley. “Yeah, I don't remember you and I highly doubt you know you're pregnant right now or whatever so...”

“No, no.” A flush of red spreads over my cheeks. “I mean I met you backstage because I won this thing and I don't know, I just felt like I had to come back.” 

He walks back down and peers at me. “Oh...yeah...I believe  I remember you...what do you want?”

I feel myself pale. “Can I get you anything?” I squeak.

“Water.” The tension in Ville's shoulders drops. “And I kind of got kicked off the tour bus, so some taxi  money would be great...”

“Water.” I hand  him the bottle that I had in my rucksack. Then, I pull out the taxi card and my mobile and dial the number. Once I'd made the necessary arrangements, I sigh inadvertently. Love certainly is the devil counting teardrops in the rain.

 He shuffles his feet, the heels the sound of a chalkboard symphony played with nails. “What kind of mad person are you, helping a messed up bastard like me?” he laughs, running his fingers through his long tangled hair.

I shrug awkwardly. “Well, for what it's worth, I don't wanna see you hurt anymore than you have to.”

He nods. “Good Samaritan. Anyway, I don't believe I gave you that autograph last night. Shall I do that whilst we wait?”

“I don't have any paper...”

“I'll do it on your hand instead.” Ville pulls a Sharpie out of his pocket and scribbles on my hand. Before I get a chance to look at it, the taxi arrives, and he hops into it. 

I give the taxi driver the money directly, just to be certain. I mutter to him, “make sure you don't make any stops other than where you are going.” He chuckles and nods. 

“Thanks,” Ville smiles, his small narrow teeth showing, which was a rare occurrence. 

“That's OK,” I say and after Ville murmurs to the taxi drivers, they speed off. I glance at the writing on my hand:

'Lonely the light shines on you
Through the gates of fire entombed
Feeding on your love,
Weak is the blaze that kept me awake,
From cruelty and tenderness enraised
Saving my soul no more.'

 

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