Short Story: Love Song

Short Story: Love Song

‘En naw hoo’d lik’ to goo ne’xt?” uttered mechanically with an eerie smile a tall, slim, Cher-like Asian woman, hitting with her nose the side of the microphone.

Everyone sat quiet, as the lyrics started going on the huge screen in front of the audience tables. I didn’t bother thinking twice – for long enough had I thought twice – and raised my hand. The woman nodded, and I took my place under the spotlight. I’d never done karaoke before.

The beat began from somewhere afar, somewhere deep low behind me, as if within me; the lyrics snapped and rushed back from the beginning on what seemed to be a wide giant purple screen. Everyone sat staring, dumbstruck, numb. I opened my mouth to sing.

To my own half-conscious surprise, out came such fierce feelings and remembrances of a past love, of a love throbbing in the very present, like red tears on a disco-green pillow following a cruel break-up. I sang of things lamented by singers of the 70s, of pains celebrated during the 80s, of break-ups and make-ups by cherished cliché love pop-tunes from the 90s.

I seemed to have sung every possibly known love song through one single tune during those never-ending yet ever so brief three minutes I was up there.

The melody kept flowing, the lyrics kept rushing; my voice was engaging in the production of different memories of broken-heartedness and the joy of love, magically, smoothly, gently.

The music and lyrics stopped harshly and briskly. My time was up. I raised my head and opened my eyes, and saw the audience glaring at me, awed, bewildered.

I had sung of things they had felt as well.