Random Rants and Rambling from a Rock n Roll Drama Queen: July 2014

A Fictional Rock Reality

Matt, still charged from the show, began kissing her before he even changed seats.

“The window…” Jules reminded, as he swung a leg over her way, and he obligingly leaned back long enough to twist it up.

“That’s not going to stop Bigfoot from reaching in the top and dragging you out by your hair,” he teased.

“Shut up…” she retorted and shot a wary glance to the open T-tops.

She had never told Matt that it was a human monster she feared. Matt knew the ghost stories of this area—the creepiest of them being the horse drawn carriage. Some said this apparition manifested for as long as a minute, causing panicked drivers and wrecks. But she could never bring herself to talk about her real fear, which was greater than a ghost carriage.

Settling in his lap, she returned his hungry kisses as he let the seat back as far as it would go. Matt took the rubber band from his own hair and twisted it into hers, a sure sign that he was crazy horny and wanted nothing in the way for now.

Rising Sun, Half Moon, Rock Stars, D-String Set in the Six Silver Strings Series, is a fictional rock romance rooted in reality. The realities of this book are found in the historical events and actual bands intertwined into the story of a 70’s rock band Cawaba and the rocky romance of two bandmates Matt Loren and Jules Breaux.

A few months ago, I mentioned the Laurel Canyon area, which is one of the main backdrops of this story, and the history and legends of the area. One huge paranormal legend lies at the intersection of Laurel Canyon Boulevard and Lookout Mountain Road.

Numerous reports tell of a black carriage drawn by white horses, silently racing across the road during a two second glimpse before vanishing. The sighting has even caused wrecks when drivers try to avoid it. The most recent sightings are recorded only months ago.

Is this in Rising Sun, Half Moon, Rock Stars? You betcha! Along with the Rock and Roll Treehouse, mention of the Manson Murders, and legendary figures from the 70s crucial to Laurel Canyon’s history. But back to the white horses…

Here are 2 more excerpts from the trilogy.

When she and Star parted, Jules began the drive home and realized within two minutes that she shouldn’t be behind the wheel. She wanted to call Matt to come get her. She wanted to go home to him. To his home, which should be their home. To the couch, or the bed, or whatever Matt had tonight. The payphone was even in her hand with a dime in its slot when she remembered their last conversation about her drinking, and she replaced the receiver. Buying a coffee, she iced it, despite the store clerk’s revolted stare. Carrying it to the car, she chugged it in her usual manner before twisting the key.

Driving down The Boulevard of Broken Dreams, she took care, watching the lights and the light flow of traffic. She made the right from Sunset onto Laurel Canyon. With her foot barely depressing the gas, she glued her eyes to her headlights as they illuminated the steep road, curve after curve.

Coasting to a stop before turning onto Lookout Mountain, she noted the empty bus stop, and debated on lighting another cigarette. It was in that moment, when she glanced from the bus stop, back to the road ahead, that it happened.

The mythical horse and carriage apparition. In her imagination, the horses, and the carriage had always both been white, wispy, ghostly. But tonight, the horses were a majestic white, and the carriage black. Seeming to come out of nowhere, it lumbered across the road, and if she had blinked her eyes, in that time it was gone. But she was sure she hadn't blinked.

The blare of a car horn from behind jerked her from her state of shock, and she lifted her head from the steering wheel… wait, when had she dropped her head to the wheel? And when had a car pulled up behind her?

Forcing calming breaths into her lungs, she moved her foot from the break to the gas.

At last, she unclenched her knuckles from the steering wheel long enough to punch the code into the gate before pulling into her driveway in relief…

…Stumbled out of the car…

…Stumbled up steps and stairs… through the dark night… down the dark hallway…

…Tripped on more than one stair…

…A fearful eye stayed on the third story stairwell, which led to the master bedroom and her sleeping mother. Finally, she was easing her bedroom door closed.

“And forget you owed me a call due to common courtesy. WHY wouldn’t you WANT to call?” Distortion again. And that vulnerable inflection from Matt tore at her heart. “So I’m asking again, what’s going on? What’s been going on?” When she stayed quiet, unable to answer, he asked, “Can’t you just say it?”

“No. ” Her voice felt small, as if she were projecting it through a huge arena with a dead mic.

“You never can, can you?” A soft click and then seconds later the dial tone.

Trying unsuccessfully to process that statement, she smoked another cigarette before going up to her room and falling into her bed for more sleep.

The white horses ran through her memories as she dozed, and it was then that she came to the horrifying conclusion that she had dozed at the intersection last night.