The Top 50 Albums Of 2011, Reinterpreted As Short Stories (Part 3)

Click here for Part 2

CHAPTER 30
EMA - Past Life Martyred Saints

16 April
Alternative Singer/Songwriter
Spotify

Cutting his feet on jagged floors, Jimmy stumbled around the abandoned concrete building. A few hours earlier, this place had hosted an over-populated drug-fueled party, now the only evidence of which were the piles of broken glass, rancid puke, and a few other tired individuals sitting around with no where else to go. Jimmy had been trying to find the origins of some dramatic sound, which was like a wounded moan distracting him from finishing whatever it was he was trying to finish. Turning corner after corner, his hazy vision eventually lead him into a room not so far away, where a pretty yet dirty pale-girl sat on the floor uncomfortably. She was beyond gorgeous, but obviously very destroyed; a mess who no longer gave a fuck about anything. And Jimmy found this as shocking as it was adorable.

“Are you ok?” he asked, at loss for a better question to get her attention. She didn’t bother to look up at him, but her shaky voice growled nonsense in response, distorted with genuine attitude, and this action provoked all sorts of lo-fi thoughts in Jimmy’s basic mind. He couldn’t help but feel something deep and loving towards this raw character, and even though he had no idea why, he knew that he had to help the girl. He had to take her home. He had to take care of her.

Jimmy rubbed his forehead, not sure why he was thinking these illogical thoughts. Surely this would be impossible. Surely a girl like this would never let a guy like him close to her. But he felt he had to try, and approached her cautiously, as she slowly looked up at him with her big blue eyes.

CHAPTER 29
REKS - Rhythmatic Eternal King Supreme

8 March
East Coast Hip Hop
Spotify

And not long after that, Jimmy found himself looking at his wristwatch and then quickly slipping it back under his sleeve. It was getting late, and the East Coast ghetto was no place to bling. He was a little bit lost in these parts, he may have made a wrong turn somewhere, as foreign crack eyes from the world’s lost gangsters now trailed his every move. But Jimmy was smart in the most streetwise of ways, and his ambition alone carried him where he needed to go. He kept eye contact with each one of the dark expressions staring at him, producing his own darkest expression right back, bouncing his head with a straight face ... otherwise he knew he wouldn’t survive this path. Occasionally someone called out to him, and he spoke back fast without walking too fast, confident with a fluid sharpness, aware that this was no joke and he couldn’t afford any hiccups. This place was old school. It kept itself so underground that wikipedia couldn't even find it, and he knew the mission ahead would be long and the struggle would be hard. But he had to remember why he was doing this. He was doing this for Erika. They needed the money.

CHAPTER 28
Anna Calvi - Anna Calvi

17 Jan
Gothic Rock/Art Pop
Spotify

Santa isn’t coming to town this year, sorry to be the first to tell you. A reliable source informed me that he was captured during the first full moon after The Portal had opened, and he was being held captive deep within a dark church, surrounded by slick religious architecture and Gothic hallways.

Word has it that he is being treated well enough, kept secure on smooth marble surfaces and warm within sinister layers of comfort. But his cold aching center was all he needed to remind himself that the love he was receiving was just another disguise for evil motives, despite all the swirling erotic vibes he was presented with. I’ve heard of this happening before. Rumours that lullabies echo through the walls are a common tale, consisting of superb operatic compositions and soft whispers, designed to trick you into falling asleep. But when you do, your slumber would be laced in reverb and eternally tortured in epic nightmare territory. Poor Santa. And even more disturbing is the organized chaos of the demons said to be living right there with him. Creatures of sin rolling towards him on stone floors, or soaring above his head with menacing mannerisms—yet never striking. They taunt him. They just leave him hanging in fear.

This is all in theory, of course, as none of this has been widely reported. But there is something stunning about this image, do you not agree? A part of me almost hopes it to be true. The part I enjoy the most. The part I am deeply ashamed of.

CHAPTER 27
Frank Ocean - Nostalgia, Ultra.

16 Feb
Contemporary R&B

The door creaked open and Erika awoke to the sound. A shadow formed at the doorway and entered, keys rustled and then the door shut behind him. He walked to the foot of the bed, turned around and then fell backwards into it, sighing as the rusty springs squeaked their age.

“Hey you,” she whispered in perfect English (a skill she had only recently acquired), and she rubbed her sleepy eyes.
“Hey you, yourself,” Jimmy smiled, and leaned across to kiss her forehead.
“Where were you?” she asked as he clicked his cassette player on, The Eagles quietly filling the atmosphere.
He sighed again. “I was with the gang. You know that, baby. I was with The Family.”
She rolled over and lifted her head. “I don’t like your family.”
He paused. “Me neither, Erika. Me neither.”

They lay there for a few moments not speaking, allowing the mixtape to fill the silence. Then she put her arm around his chest and kissed his ear.
“Tell me the story again.”
He laughed. “Again? Baby, I’m tired...”
“Please?!” she begged. “Tell it to me again, I wanna hear it”
He turned onto his side and looked into her eyes. “Well... if this next deal goes through as planned, we will have some good money for our savings. And if we do this carefully, we could get outta this town in the next month or so. We could go live with my parents by their forest...”
“And then?” she urged the story on faster, causing him to laugh again.
“And then ... you could start selling your pottery, and get into dancing. And I could try get back into the music business. We would kick the junk for good over there, no more gangs. Just you and me, getting clean and forgetting all of this shit.”

As he spoke, his fingers tickled her leg and she smiled, allowing them to crawl further and further up her nightgown until reaching her panties, and promptly moving them aside. She groaned as he continued to whisper in her ear.
“And then we will be millionaires, baby. You and me. Anything you want, you can have it. Everybody in the world will treat me like a king, and you, my queen.”
She groaned louder, and then stopped. Worriedly, she turned and looked at him, changing the subject.
“Jimmy, did you get the stuff?”
“Yeah I got it,” he replied, and she relaxed with this information, allowing his fingers to dig deeper into her until she came. She could only cum when it was time for her next fix.

CHAPTER 26
Washed Out - Within and Without

12 July
Chillwave
Spotify

Unbelievably so, the “next deal” went through without a hitch. And after shooting his boss in the head and claiming all the money for himself, Jimmy took Erika and they skipped town, escaping to live with his parents in a relatively unknown yet extremely scenic place in the countryside. He felt he had out-smarted the system, as if all the world’s clichés didn’t apply to him—and to a degree, he was right. His life of crime had been an empty existence, reverberating only what authority figures had told him to do, over-saturating his opinions with second-hand diluted visions of others. Now they lived the healthy lifestyle, no longer hooked on heroin, giving Jimmy a great excuse to stay in doors and play on his laptop all day. And Erika was finally able to live a life closer to her wilderness origins, often begging Jimmy to explore the surrounding forests with her.

And that’s how Jimmy found himself now, standing on top of a high rock cliff, looking down. Erika floated effortlessly in the water below him, quietly encouraging him to jump in after her. Heights freaked him out, and he was visibly nervous. His shakes looked like he was dancing in slow motion in front of the heavens, which made Erika laugh as she did backstroke, never breaking eye-contact. Jimmy took a deep breath and looked up to the dusk sky in all its perfection, and felt his mood shifting one way to the next. How he had come so far: from days as a care-free teen; to a mastermind of criminal activity; to this blissful existence out in nature without a single problem in the world ... was all because of Erika. He loved her so much, and was convinced that if he did whatever she wanted him to do, to the very best of his ability, their relationship would guide them the right way. And in this moment, she wanted him to jump into the water from this nauseating height. She wanted him to follow her. And he wanted to follow her anywhere.

A nostalgic type of bliss ran through him, followed by a calming serenity deep within. And without a further thought, he felt his feet leave the rocks and he sailed into the air, the space and wind rushing through him as time seemed to hold onto this moment forever. Silence was everywhere and he almost felt like he was falling asleep, until the rush of water smothered him, and for a second he assumed he must be drowning. He sank further into this state until arms that weren’t his wrapped around his waist and pulled him to the surface again, water in his ears muffling the sound of Erika’s joy. “You did it!” she exclaimed and they embraced, suspended in the still water around them and the safety of each other.

“No, Erika. We did it,” he responded, and they hugged even tighter in the deep cradle of love and sense of achievement, not letting go for as long as they needed. Which wasn’t long, as something shiny caught Erika’s eye on the river bank not so far away, interrupting the passion.
“Hey, what’s that?” she asked out loud, and began to swim towards it, followed once again by Jimmy, blown away by her profound maturity laced with an adorable childlike personality.

God, he loved her. And at this point of the story, he could never have imagined the dark fate that lay ahead of them.

CHAPTER 25
Astronautalis - This Is Our Science

13 Sep
Abstract Hip-Hop
Spotify

King Jay grabbed his candle and joined the various other people who sat in a circle on the dusty floor. Their faces spanned all races and ages, and he could tell by their weary expressions that had taken them a few days to climb up this mountain too. Who knew why they made up their minds to come to this cave, but for Jay it was because he had no choice. He had lost his kingdom and had heard of many others who’d carried out this journey in deep distraught, never to come back. To a degree this worried the King, but he hoped this was a sign that those before him had found what they were looking for here. And now more than ever, he needed advice from the man who was said to live in these elevated peaks. The man who knew everything.

Murmurs faded in and out as everyone waited in patience, candles flickering in unison, interesting sounds echoing from the depths of the cave, until finally a dark shrouded figure appeared from the furthest corner of the shelter. One by one, each person was silenced as the man approached the circle, eventually taking a seat in the middle of them, all eyes on him. Jay couldn’t see his face, but as soon as the speech began, he knew that this individual was what everyone said he would be.

At first Jay wasn’t sure what to make of all of this—the wise gruff voice preaching many things and not allowing for any interruptions or questions. But it didn’t take long before the King realised that there were some very unique and deliberate ideas coming from this elder’s mouth, the wise words delivered quickly with the freshest of parable-like structures to back them up, each one different from the one before. There were topics of love, topics of everyday troubles, and topics Jay had never even heard of but would definitely never forget. He spoke of The Prophecy, the fall of the kingdom at the hand of The Devil, and the cycle of time. He spoke of how there will always be a partnership of love destined to die unfulfilled, and how nothing could interfere with this eternal pattern. And in a short time, the King understood that this wise man was answering his questions without having to be asked, the philosopher’s mind working on a deeper level of intelligence than anyone else he had ever come into contact with.

Slowly, all the seated members were getting hypnotised by these tales, sometimes presented as tender and understanding, sometimes presented as aggressive and blunt, but all of which felt like the nature of life itself: unpredictable and always special. And yet even within all his quirkiness and wisdom, the old man's poetic teachings never escaped a hint of sadness beneath it all, as if he wasn’t pleased with the job he had to fulfil. Jay guessed this is why he was so easy to relate to. This is how he got such a loyal fan base to hang onto his every word like some cult leader. He had taken his superiority and superhuman traits, and adapted them into a more human form. And Jay (like everyone else) appreciated the warmth and honesty of these thoughts, deciding that while he was here, he may as well stay a little while.

And like so many before, the longer he stayed there, the faster he started to forget where he had been only days before. His men had been slaughtered. His kingdom had been reduced to rubble. And Kylie. He had even started to forget Kylie.

CHAPTER 24
When Saints Go Machine - Konkylie

06 June
Indie Electronic
Spotify

In the castle garden, Kylie spun around, dancing in the unseasonal snow, taking in all the feelings from the green plants temporarily turning white, stunned with cold. She shuddered as the freeze sunk deep inside of her, reminding her of her mortality. She had never journeyed this distance into the garden before, as her father—The King—didn’t like her to adventure too far away from her home. Which wasn’t hard to enforce, as the castle walls were high and Kylie had never even seen the outside world. Which didn’t bother her much, as she didn’t know any better.

Her feet left tiny footprints behind her as she ventured further into the darker regions of her father's land. Here her gaze fell upon a small apple tree and she felt drawn to it. In her limited perception, she couldn’t understand why this particular tree seemed so special and bright, but for the rest of us it would have been fairly obvious that this was the only plant on all the grounds that no snow seemed to fall upon. She danced towards it, and felt its warmth as she approached the twisted branches. The apples shone ripe red, and as she touched one, her pale skin instantly turned from cold to hot as if hovering above the kitchen fire. This fascinated her, and she picked it off of the tree, surprised to find it retained the heat as she cradled it in her thin fingers. She placed it against her rosy cheeks and her whole face felt love from this fruit. Without any more hesitation, she bit into the apple and chewed vigorously as the hot juices swirled around in her mouth. It was delicious. She savoured the taste and then swallowed it, ready for the next bite, which never came.

As the blood rushed out of her head at the same time as the apple rushed down her throat, she felt her wind-pipe closing up like it had been cut out with scissors, and her tongue swelled up like a sponge. The world went dizzy and she fell back into the snow, slowly freezing in a position that she would stay in forever, unless this curse could be broken.

An eerie cackle rang from the tree as the witch who had been watching Kylie her whole life finally spoke.
“My master, it has been done. Only the true chosen one could break a spell this strong. The kingdom is now weak and ready for you, King West. Attack now and claim the throne which is rightfully yours.”

And with a sneaky pact with Satan, he did just that.

CHAPTER 23
Modeselektor - Monkeytown

30 Sep
Electronic

The tails of the whip flew through the air and cracked on her pale skin. She yelped in pain which caused the monkeys to scream with laughter, the sound of their cheers building up in unison. And even though this was the hundredth time they had done this, the joke never seemed to get old.

It had been four days since the mission of these animals had invaded and taken over the village, creeping in while the tribe had been sleeping then slitting all of their throats one by one. Well, all of them except for this pale-skin girl of course, who for some reason fascinated the monkeys. It wasn’t just her white complexion either, even though admittedly, it did shine a delicious red from their hand-prints when faced with the abuse. No, it was something else. She just seemed ... on a different level of sorts, as if a child born from a different time. This encouraged them to dance around her in an almost admiration, howling in what appeared to be a musical way, but subtly manipulated to reflect their madness. “Again! Again!” they seemed to chant, and the leading monkey raised his whip to strike again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” an electronic voice pierced the monkey’s ears, and they all turned in surprise to see who had joined the party. There stood a robot in all its cubic goodness, unnecessary lights beeping in complete control and assurance of itself. The being was nothing like this jungle had ever seen before, and the monkeys stopped in complete intrigue. Even the pale-skin teenager forgot about her nudity and current painful position, now captivated by this strange character. They held their breath, their eyes almost begging for the synthetic voice to speak again. But it didn’t.

Instead, a mass load of light shone out of its eyes, blinding with so many various colours, filling the entire village in seconds. The sight was so peculiar and different that the monkeys were beyond confusion, unsure whether or not they enjoyed the spectacle. But within just a few short moments, it didn’t matter any more. The light began to die down, contracting back into the robot’s face, until only the disrupted noise of the forest remained. The pale-skin girl opened her eyes, and they refused to comprehend what they was seeing, blinking furiously just to make sure. All the monkeys had disappeared. Where they had gone, she had no idea, but the relief of the situation was too unbelievable to believe, her good fortune refusing to kick in.

“BRAVO! BRAVO!” a crazy voice came from behind her.
“Yes, good show, Robot,” another very different voice responded. "You are definitely one of us."
The pale-skin girl felt the ropes ease off her skin and then drop to the floor, her tired legs so weak that she tumbled onto the ground after them.
“You will come with us to New York, Robot. Together we will make decisions that change history,” the girl heard the second voice speak again, as arms wrapped around her and lifted her to her feet.
“And you too, my darling, will be coming with us.”

CHAPTER 22
Cults - Cults

07 June
Indie Pop
Spotify

On their boat surrounded by late 60’s decor, Erika sat on her cheap couch, clutching her phone watching cute children’s anime on the television. It wasn’t helping. She needed to get hold of Jimmy to tell him the news, but the natural love-endorphins shooting through her heartbeats conflicted with a soft scent of nostalgia, confusing her shallow feelings even more. She longed for his kisses and slow dances more than ever, but she knew he was busy fighting evil in the Ocean War under his superhero disguise once again. The idea of this swamped her with as much adoration as it did with despise, the neglect of being a superhero’s girlfriend weighing heavy on her day to day existence. She couldn’t help but dial his number again.

It rang to voicemail, as it did before, and she decided to leave another message. “Hey. It’s me again. Just ... just wanting to let you know that I love you and ... and, well, I have something to tell you. It’s just, please get back to me as soon as you can, okay? And be careful out there, sweetheart.” The phone beeped its pretty chime as she hung up, and then she cursed her lack of courage. It would have been so much better to treat this like a band-aid, to get it out as quickly as possible, but she couldn’t bring her tiny voice to do so. How her life had got to this point she had no idea, but when the little baby punches vibrated against her ribcage, she filled with a nervous adrenaline and wasn’t sure just how Jimmy would react when he found out she was pregnant with his baby. And, of course, it didn’t take long for Erika to find out that this baby had superpowers of its own...

CHAPTER 21
Black Keys - El Camino

06 Dec
Garage Rock

Fast forward a few years later, and things couldn’t be happier for the family. Erika watched from the kitchen window, casually sipping at a mojito, while Jimmy played in the yard with Gillian, their daughter. He was so good with her, Erika thought. A great father—as if the child was scratching an itch he never knew he had. And due to Jimmy’s recent success in the Ocean War, money was never going to be an issue for them ever again, allowing them to live out in the countryside, away from the press and nosey fans. But best of all (as far as Erika was concerned) was Jimmy’s ample focus on the family. He seemed to urgently spend as much time with them as he could, his days of super-heroism waning, this frictionless lifestyle of purity his only priority. Well, that and fixing up old cars, which was something Gillian helped him with greatly. For their daughter, like her father, had been blessed with a special ability, being that of superhuman smell. To some this may seem like a bland power—nothing in comparison to her dad’s reputation at least. But for Jimmy it was exceptionally useful, as she sniffed out any car-parts he needed, or discovered the leaking of fumes before they even happened. And while they worked, they spoke of grand road-trips into the sunset. And when they took breaks, they would play their signature games of hopscotch or frequently jump on the trampoline for hours. Which is what Gillian was doing right now, as her father watched her go higher and higher, the both of them occasionally waving to their mommy who would calmly wave back with a warm smile.

Just then the phone rang, and Erika walked away from this gorgeous sight to answer it, completely unaware that the conversation waiting on the other side would change her life forever.
“Hello, Erika speaking?” she offered her canned line, effortlessly and automatic.
“Erika," a sultry female voice on the other end responded. "You don’t know who I am, but in a few moments, you will never forget the words I am about to say to you.”
“Who is this?” Erika inquired.
“My name is Lucy. And a few years ago, I fucked your lover Jimmy in the bathroom of a frat party.”
Erika felt her grip tighten on the phone, her knuckles fading whiter than her usual pale skin tone, eventually settling on a shade of blue.
“You’re going to have to prove a claim as extraordinary as that, bitch,” Erika hissed, which was met with a calm and sexy laugh.
“Oh, I will prove this to you in the next 30 seconds,” and she proceeded to do just that. All the raw details of her seduction with specific words used in such a natural order that the authenticity of her story was impossible to doubt. And as it began to sink in, Erika dropped the phone and walked into the master bedroom, locking the door behind her.

And neither Jimmy nor Gillian knew that they would never see her alive again.



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The Top 50 Albums Of 2011, Reinterpreted As Short Stories (Part 2)

Click here for Part 1

CHAPTER 40
Snowman - ∆bsence

22 April
Experimental Rock
Spotify

That night Gillian’s vivid dreams came to surface once again. Visions of her parents abandoning her in ways she would never understand gave her sleep the shudders, and she eventually awoke covered in cold sweat, warm urine and breaths of panic. She lay there for a few moments, and concluded she would not be getting anymore sleep that night, especially in her own wet stink. Instead, Gillian decided now would be a good time to take a walk around this unfamiliar building, inspecting it without any supervision for a change. She was still relatively new to this orphanage, and the threats of the Devil punishing this type of behaviour did not scare her—why would it? She was of a young mind and the concept of a heaven and a hell were far from important to her.

Hence why we see her now, creeping down the endless corridors of texture, exploring her new home excitedly as any young child would. Every step echoed in the darkness and brought as much fear as it did anticipation. Noises of the sleeping came from each room she passed, and she had fun guessing what each sound might be. Is that someone snoring, or a monster in the dark? Was that her footstep or someone else's? She loved it as much as she couldn’t stand it.

Her imagination immediately stopped running away with her once she found herself in front of a large door with a crucifix nailed to the front, the figure of Jesus looking deep into her eyes as if urging her not to go any further. Behind this door came a noise she couldn’t place anywhere in her memory, perhaps resembling the coughing of a sick baby or the growling of a wolf—neither of which seemed quite right to her. Curiosity was her greatest weakness, so she lightly pressed her ear against the thick wood in an attempt to hear better, almost screaming when the door creaked open at her touch. A yellow light poured out and a small warmth hit her face. It was so inviting despite the overbearing rotten smell and evil atmosphere which seemed to come with it. She couldn’t help herself, and her little eyes peered around the corner at their own will, finding themselves gazing at a man with his back turned, fiddling with something which she couldn’t quite see. The scene had a very mysterious and unsettling aura about it which made her want to scream again, but she cupped her hand over her mouth and continued to observe this man from a distance. “What is he doing?” her thoughts begged. She had to know.

Her bare feet arched onto their toes as she quietly stepped into the large room. She noticed right away that this was a small cathedral of sorts, as she had seen pictures of them in those Catholic books, the stunning decoration sticking to her mind. And whatever this man was doing, he was doing it at the altar, the so-called holiest part of the room. Slowly she approached him, desperate to know what he was so intently focused on, the intrigue too overwhelmingly strong to ignore despite her instincts to throw up right there. Closer and closer to the man her quiet feet lead her, the need to run taking great effort to hold back, but the yearning to view this hunchback’s activity without entering his peripheral vision overrode all of her intuition. She held her breath to keep silent, gradually approaching the movement, ignoring the smell which grew thicker with each step. This man’s frantic mumbling and the panting of some other creature drowned out her footsteps until she was only a few feet away, and there she paused. She could see it now. The man’s hands worked with pliers, painstakingly pulling apart at a cage which contained a little horned animal unlike anything she had seen before. It was the size of a large rat yet looked more like a varnished cow or a deer, with mouths within its mouth, and tongues flapping over rows of teeth fixed into a smile. Its eyes were deep green holes in the side of its head and it ran around in miniature circles within its cage, visibly excited and hyperactive over the prospect of being freed.

“What’s that!?” her voice coughed out of her control, and the man spun around to face her. His attire was that of a priest except his head was bloodied, covered in bandages, and his pliers were pointed straight at her throat.
“Gillian. You made it,” he spluttered. And then she screamed for real.

CHAPTER 39
Frank Turner - England Keep My Bones

06 June
Folk-Punk
Spotify

“I took a bullet right here,” General Turner boasted whilst lifting his up shirt, revealing a circular scar, faded, but definitely the reminder of some deep wound. “Bastard shot me from a tree. Didn’t even see it coming.”
“So what happened?” one of the younger listeners asked curiously.
“I shot him in the face!” Turner laughed, and the lads responded with respectful cheers, raising their pints and smashing them together, quickly followed by man-sized gulps.

Frank Turner loved telling his war stories to these teenage boys. He felt like an advanced historian, offering them insights within the reality of battle which no book could accurately convey in quite the same realistic way. He had been there, and he was proud of it, the wars had made a man of him even in his retirement. Further more, the crew of boys who frequented his same local pub always concentrated on his wisdom with adoration. They too had a passion for their country, and General Turner’s older words were much like Shakespeare to them; as patriotic as they were poetic, and always captivating. There was a special intelligence and sincere charm about his way of talking, even the most gruesome of his stories executed in a manner of optimism and dedication to his heritage. Which is why they were all here on yet another weekday afternoon, listening.

“Ah, England. I love this country. I’d die for it with admiration,” he sighed nostalgically, looking into his glass.
“God bless England, sir!” another boy chirped up, and then coward back into his chair. He had felt Turner’s demeanour shift frigidly at his words, his mannerisms becoming uncharacteristically defensive.
“God? Let me tell you something about God, my boy!” sudden aggression tainted his usual smooth voice. “There is no fucking God on the war-plains, you hear me? There is no fucking God out there!” General Turner had begun to shout, and upon realising this, leaned back in his seat to recompose himself. He hardly ever swore, so when he did, it was with such furious impact that the boys knew not to speak again until spoke to. They sat there in silence, sipping their beers, the acoustic melodies from the jukebox the only audible sound.

“Mr Turner, sir?” a female voice called, and the General looked behind him to see the pretty bar lady calling his name. “There is a phone call for you.”
“For me?” he asked confused, and then stood up slowly as his old legs had seen far too many steps in their time. He made his way over to the phone placed precariously on the edge of the bar, and picked it up.
“Frank Turner here,” he answered.
“It’s time, General,” was the response.
“Time for what? Who is this?”
“It’s D. It’s time for the portal. We are going to open it now, The President has given the order. I figured you would like to be here, seeing as you were the first leading figure of the mission, General...”
“The Portal??” Turner’s voice rose, and bar lady glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “How is that possible? We never even managed to work out that damn code...”
“We got the code, General. Some Priest named Giles in New York gave it to us, and it seems to be legit. So what you say, Frank? You wanna finish this off once and for all?”
Turner took a deep breath. He looked down at his hands, trembling and frail. He looked over to the lads, and they raised their glasses back. He looked outside, the beauty of the place he lived filling him with an internal peace. Then he turned back to the phone.

“Don’t you ever call me again, you understand?” he whispered. Then he calmly hung up and turned back to the boys, ready to continue with more of his story-telling.

CHAPTER 38
Tennis - Cape Dory

18 Jan
Twee Pop
Spotify

After a long afternoon of roller-skating in what felt like a mid-1970’s summer breeze, no amount of candyfloss or soda pop could shelter our young couple from the hot LA sun anymore. It had been a long day, and the two spoke and laughed as they walked home to their quaint boat-house. Here, they sipped on simple cocktails with all their deliciousness and admired the soft sunset in its Prozac innocence. With their arms around each other and over-joyed by their love, they blissfully smiled, enjoying the moment in full knowledge that the day would soon be over. There, she leaned into him and said “Honey, I think we are luckiest boy and girl in the world.”

CHAPTER 37
Oh Land - Oh Land

15 March
Artpop
Spotify

James woke up with a jump and glanced at his alarm clock. Three in the morning. He fell back into his pillow and covered his face with his hands. This was the third time this had happened to him in the last week, and while it was impossible to remember exactly what was going on or just how it made him feel, the resonance was one of either the sweetest nightmare or the darkest dream he’d ever had. His mind clawed at the reoccurring images, and as with each time this had happened, those images had become clearer and clearer, albeit still somewhat sugar coated.

Once asleep, it was almost as if everything had been carefully woven together by a mature and well traveled figure, seemingly wearing James’ heart on his sleeve, playing with the strings at his will. Perhaps this act was with love, perhaps it was with evil—but regardless, it was definitely unintentional. For this figure seemed to hardly take any notice of James’ presence in his own dreams, instead taking old memories and manipulating them, perfectly stitching them together, merging good and bad thoughts like colourful paint, now turning grey and messy in parts. Even now as James lay in his bed, he found it hard to recall which of his memories were real and which ones were not. Did he truly lose his family? Was he really once a hero to many? These ambiguous and surreal versions of his experiences confused him, but only on the surface. On a deeper wiser level, however, it seemed to make more sense than anything that may have actually happened. Which naturally confused him even further, if that makes any sense.

No, it doesn’t really. This was just his mind was going in circles, and he was unable to stop thinking about this madness—nor did he really want to. With tired eyes and a stupor smile, he got out of bed and turned his lights on, reaching for a drink. He wouldn’t be sleeping anymore tonight.

CHAPTER 36
The Roots - undun

06 Dec
East Coast Hip Hip
Spotify

Jimmy had officially become a high-roller since the ups and down of High School. Money was finally flowing in more steadily and he could even afford to move Erika and himself into a larger apartment, eating more than just tinned food and water. Erika was getting much better as well, or at least that’s what Jimmy kept telling himself. Her native tongue had almost begun to clumsily form English words, and her previous timid movements had become a little more seamless and natural. Sure, she was still very emotional, spending most nights crying, missing her family, confused by the large city which ate souls and ran on crime ... but Jimmy could see an intelligence dying to get out from behind her beautiful blue eyes. He spent every second with her that he could—which wasn’t much while he was busy selling crack to the desperate streets just to reach ends meet. Yes, it wasn’t ideal, he was aware of that. But when he first met Erika as a stranger at that troubled party, he knew that the fun and safety of a normal life had to be forgotten. And when he carried her to his home that day, he had made a promise to protect and take care of this girl no matter what it took. And in these parts, sometimes all it took was a life of crime.

Fortunately, crime does pay, and he found it almost too easy to get involved with the gang he now called his family. He started from the bottom, riding a rusted car through the bleakest parts of his ghetto, looking for potential customers and ensuring orders were met. But he was focused. He worked hard and struggled through, which eventually paid off with a promotion from the boss, who (despite his cutthroat policies) was quite an inspirational character. And just like that, no longer was Jimmy the runner-boy, forcing the teenagers to pay their debt and dealing with the influx of counterfeit money. Now he had a team working under him—he was a middle man of sorts—with added power and less risk of getting caught. This extra responsibility meant longer hours, sure, but also meant more time to relax and reflect on the inner turmoil that was his home life, allowing himself to make elaborate plans so that one day he and Erika would get out of this godforsaken town once and for all.

Because in her own quiet way, she loved him. Jimmy knew this. Neither of them quite understood why—they could hardly even communicate and had absolutely nothing in common—but it just felt right. Almost as if their meet was written in the stars, vibrating to some ancient prophecy decided many centuries ago.

CHAPTER 35
Foster The People - Torches

24 May
Indie Pop
Spotify

And then in a sudden flashback, Jimmy had been thrown into a High School musical again. It was the hottest of summers and the kids skateboarded past him, giving high fives and sneaking loose cigarettes behind the teachers’ backs. He remembered this time clearly now. He was one of the popular kids, dating a cheerleading chick, wearing the latest fashion, and more than anything, well aware that today was Friday, baby. His friends surround him, laughing and singing vocal melodies of such a high quality that it felt like they were directing all their words solely to him. This filled Jimmy with so much joy that he couldn’t help himself, and got up onto the cafeteria table, dancing to the sound of his peers’ claps and cheers. The gay kids were making out in the corner but nobody gave them any trouble. The teachers were begging everyone to go back to class, but nobody could hear them. This was their movie.

Certainly, as with any script in this genre, there were some holes in the plot and the whole performance sagged a bit in the middle—as it was to be expected. But when the end of day bell rang, the unmatchable care-free feeling of youth returned to these kids with a vengeance. Yup, it’s back to all smiles and beautiful faces, jumping into their cars with the tops down, full of vibe and completely aware that they were having more fun than they could ever have on purpose. They were now liberated, and for the rest of the weekend it was about short skirts and beer in plastic cups, making-out and prematurely falling in love. Sure it was superficial, but it’s all Jimmy had back then, and what’s wrong with superficial anyhow? This was the happiest he had been, or would be, for years.

CHAPTER 34
The Dø - Both Ways Open Jaws

14 Nov
Indie Pop
Spotify

Lead by his courageous heart alone, the Prince had effortlessly chopped through his enemies’ faces with nothing more than a smile and his golden sword. The attack on this kingdom had been easy and painless, because King Jay had let his guard down, preoccupied with other matters. This ensured a swift take over for King West, the Prince’s father, who had done so with the aid of an evil pact written by the Devil himself. But these politics were of little interest to the Prince, as his ventured up staircase after staircase, knocking over piles of scrap metal which clattered and echoed in the hallways.

“What are you doing here, mister?” a tiny voice sounded behind him, and he swung around, surprised to find that the tip of his sword was pointing directly at the face of a little deer.
“What in the gods’ names are you?” The Prince responded to the question with a question.
“I’m a deer!” the deer stated the obvious. “I am here to help you. Please accept my services?”
The Prince laughed at this strange creature, as if today hadn’t been weird enough already. “You wouldn’t understand, deer. I have a destiny to fulfill.”
“What is it?” The eager deer pried, and the Prince laughed, deciding there would be no harm in humouring this cute animal.
“Whispers on the wind have it that there is curse placed on the Princess who lives here," the Prince explained. "A curse that can only be lifted by a kiss from the authentic chosen one.”
“This is true,” the deer responded with confidence. “But what has this got to do with you?”
“Are you a fool, deer?” The Prince asked frustratedly. “I am the chosen one! I received a message in the form of a dream, a few moons ago. A man told me that I must seek out the Princess and kiss her, and by the hands of fate, that is why I am here. Do you understand?”
The deer barked in joy and excitedly jumped in a circle. “The chosen one! Well, why didn’t you say so? I will guide you to her!”
“You know where she is?” the Prince doubted his luck. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! Follow me!” the deer sang, and then skipped through a side-door, almost falling down a winding set of stairs with the Prince following close behind.

This continued for a while, the deer running in seemingly random directions and the Prince losing his breath only a few feet behind. And just when he began to lose confidence in this absurd chase, the deer stopped in front of a small wooden door. “She’s in here!” the creature exclaimed and then jumped in a quick circle again. “Go on! Go kiss her, chosen one!”

Suspiciously, the Prince gently pushed on the door, which opened quite easily and revealed a quaint white room, filled with assorted crafts and arty pottery. And sure enough, lying on a large bed in the middle of this quarter was the Princess, still stiff from the freeze-spell and as pale as the snow which had begun to fall outside. Yet she was still strikingly beautiful. The Prince cleared his throat and slid his sword back into its sheath. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He walked towards her, passing a mirror and quickly fixing his hair and licking his chapped lips into a presentable state. When the Princess awoke, he wanted to look his best, and then they could leave this wretched place together on his horse, never having to face the battle of their ancestors ever again. They would treasure each other and live happily ever after.

He sat down next to her and stroked her cold hair, excited that his destiny was finally upon his fingertips. He had wasted enough time. He bent down and his flustered red lips met her blue-tinged mouth, their temperatures so vastly different that they almost stuck together, giving the Prince such a fright that he quickly pulled away.

Curiously, he watched the Princess’ face, waiting for any movement or a sign that the action had worked. Had he kissed her for long enough? Did he need to kiss her again? Was he even the chosen one?? These thoughts of doubt flooded into his mind for a few moments, and then he got his answer. The Princess’ eyelids began to flutter which filled his stomach with such comfort and adoration, an egotistical peace in the knowledge that his dreams were right. He was the chosen one.

Unfortunately this relief was short lived. Only seconds later, the Prince felt all of his breath sucked abruptly out of his mouth as if punched in the abdomen. He tried to scream but no sound came, and he looked at his hands which had become an autumn brown. “What is happening?” he thought in panic, as his skin began to crawl and turn into dust, slowly falling from his muscles and evaporating into thin air. He was disappearing. And by the time the Princess was fully awake and her eyes had opened, the Prince was completely gone.

Just then a magical beaver jumped onto the stone windowsill, and addressed the room. “I guess The Prince didn’t hear about that part of the curse, hey?” he giggled, causing the deer to burst into a fit of laughter.
The Princess never got the joke, and was raped and murdered later that day.

CHAPTER 33
Adele - 21

24 Jan
Pop Soul

It'd been some time since Erika had left Jimmy (or Buck Jacobs, as he liked to be known as by this point) and something was wrong. At first she felt so sure and strong about her decision, but not long afterwards she fell ill, and was now consumed by a deep sickness. As anybody could guess, the emotional weight of the break-up was a huge factor in her deteriorating health, but it went even deeper than that. Her actual body was rejecting the absence of this man—and she was dying. Her eyes had turned yellow for some reason, and since this morning her intestines had begun spawning armies of tumours, some of which rose slowly up her throat until she was coughing blood. She was tearing apart inside.

In that moment, she knew that she had to escape everything, forever. And she did so in the only way she had always known how. She opened her mouth and began to scream. She screamed and screamed until her spirit leaked out of her oesophagus and then her body began to disappear. Her raspy voice far beyond her years needed no outside trickery, instead holding her deep soul together by its power alone. Her physical self consistently evaporated into nothing but sweet hooks of sound, and eventually her entire existence had morphed into one solid melody, packaged and ready for mass consumption.

And boy, did she get mass consumed. Little pieces of her soul were sold around the world—12 million pieces, in fact. Her face was instantly embedded into the minds of the entire world, and yet no one knew who she was, let alone how such a hurt melody could exist. But everyone loved it, and as a result, her sound topped every chart and broke all records, quickly becoming the most popular product on the planet. They all begged to meet her. They all yearned to hear her opinions on everything. They all cried for another melody. They all just wanted to see her.

What they didn’t know is that they would never see Erika again. She was gone forever, transformed from human into the very items they kept in their living-rooms. And it was only a matter of time before they all found out.

CHAPTER 32
Chelsea Wolfe - Apokalypsis

23 Aug
Etheral Wave
Spotify

After what feels like days, you awake in a graveyard, tied up by your hands and confused as to how you got there. A dark and eerie atmosphere of weirdness fills your lungs, and in that moment you know you are in trouble. Mist surrounds everything and your vision begins to play tricks on itself. Cloaked figures with glowing white eyes appear to surround you, and the longer you stare at them, the more they start to take shape. “Who are these creatures?” you wonder out loud to yourself, but it doesn't matter. Because despite their creepy Gothic exterior, you know none of this is just for show. You are not here just for the sake of it. These things mean serious business, and as it should, it scares you.

You concentrate even harder, and slowly start to notice that they are chanting, a sort of low mumbling in unison, but escalating louder and louder the more you focus on it. And then without warning, one of them appears close behind you, and a nauseating tingle crawls all over your body. She introduces herself as Satan, and then runs her witchy nails down the center of your neck. You quiver at the touch, and then squeal in sharp pain as her fingers pierce through your skin, plunging deep into your back. She begins to rub a chalk like substance between the vertebra of your spine and you howl like a wolf. You beg her to stop until your throat cracks, the pain roaring into your mind as you struggle, attempting to escape in vain and in complete incomprehension of how something so unsettling is happening to you. More people should definitely know about this kind of practice.

And as the chalk sinks in, the sins of the world pour into you like the lava from hell itself. The overwhelming strangeness you felt only seconds ago, now replaced with some form of respect for these beings. You start to enjoy the moment, finding an almost catchy trait within their chants and attire, suddenly feeling proud to be part of this truly rare and unforgettable experience. As soon as this realisation hits you, everything stops, leaving you surprised and gasping for air in the silence. The girl pauses for a second, and then pulls her hand out of your back, leaning forward as she does so, whispering.

“You’re one of us now. You’re one of us now. You’re one of us now...”

CHAPTER 31
Dumbo Gets Mad - Elephants at the Door

02 Feb
Psychedelic Pop

They said the sailing ship was unsinkable, they did. For starters, its solid structure was built out of the most indestructible wood on record, created out of dragon trees (or so they said). But it was the hard-wired state-of-the-art equipment that people found the most impressive, ensuring that this was not only a fast and safe ride, but also a strong enough vessel to carry an elephant. However, all the bleeping noises, psychedelic lights and other fancy trickery wasn’t really what sold the thing to Raymond, Plumy and all of their children. No, what they loved above all else was that they had never experienced such a smooth ride on a boat before. In fact, this was the first time in all of their sailing adventures that the kids had slept so soundly in their soft beds, giving Raymond and Plumy time to do the things they enjoyed the most. Things like watching trippy 70’s porno flicks, listening to percussion-heavy jazz music, or even practicing the theremin. This was the good life for them, out in the nature of the ocean, and far away from where anyone could reach them.

That was until the night they got hit by a giant whale-like creature, which not only knocked a gaping hole in the wood but also created a massive whirlpool beneath them. They spun around and around in a cartoonesque manner until they all felt dizzy and sick like they had eaten too much sugar. The boat got torn to pieces from underneath their feet and they fell into the swirling water. The suction got bigger and bigger, louder and louder, softly burying their vocals and beginning to drown them in the most original of ways.

They nearly died, and would have too if Buck Jacobs hadn’t heard the commotion from a few miles away, already busy saving lives from similar accidents. And before they knew it; Raymond, Plumy and all their kids had been swooped up by Buck’s powerful arms and were soaring through the air, headed towards the safety of land. They were one of the lucky ones who escaped that night, as the Ocean War swallowed many other less-fortunate individuals who were just too far out of reach. This beautiful tragedy most definitely happened, and yet hardly anyone ever hears about it, hence why I felt the need to tell you. Thanks for listening.



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