The stage calls

My name is Luna, I’m twenty years old, and when I step onto a stage, I’m the only person in the world that matters to me. Everything else fades away, forgettable, like shadows in a corner that will never reach me. The leather of my jacket, the distorted sound of my guitar, the cold microphone in my hand — all of it is my refuge, my scream against everything that ever hurt me.

I was never the popular girl. At school, I was the strange one with black hair, heavy makeup, and clothes that looked like they were ripped straight from a gothic movie. Because of that, I suffered bullying like it was an endless rite of passage. But music... music was my shield and my weapon.

Today, the sound of the chords from my band, Nocturne Veil, will cut through the walls of this crowded garage. It’s battle of the bands day, and even with butterflies in my stomach, I feel an adrenaline I can’t explain. Every note I play is a step away from that heavy past.

I arrive early, as I always do, and watch the other bands arriving. Some guys with fake smiles, girls who look like they walked right out of a pop magazine, and us... we’re the weird ones, the outcasts who came to show that darkness can be as beautiful as the light.

The place is kind of dark, full of posters stuck to the walls and smelling like sweat mixed with cheap beer. The makeshift stage is small, but to me, it’s a castle. The first band is already playing — a generic pop sound that makes me want to laugh, but I hold back.

I head backstage to fix my guitar, taking a deep breath. My bassist, Dante, a skinny guy with eyes that always look tired, throws me an encouraging smile. “You got this, Luna.”

“I hope so,” I answer, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

Then I see her. Clara. Her fiery red hair and easy smile. She’s in the rival band, but for some reason, she always catches my attention. Today, she’s talking to her lead singer, but when our eyes meet, I feel a strange chill that has nothing to do with the show.

I can’t let that distract me.

My band goes on stage right after the last song. My heart’s pounding, but my hands don’t shake. We start with a heavy song, full of riffs that seem to tear pieces from the soul. The crowd starts moving, some people begin jumping, others just watch curiously.

In the middle of the song, I feel her gaze again. Clara is watching, and for the first time, I see something beyond competition in her eyes. Something that makes the sound more intense, more urgent.

When we finish, the silence for a second is almost unbearable — until they applaud. It’s not the wild crowd I dreamed of, but it’s enough. I feel a little proud, despite the fear.

Later, during the break, she comes near our corner, looking at me like I’m a mystery. “You’re amazing on stage,” she says, her voice softer than I expected.

“Thank you,” I reply, trying to hide the heat rising to my face. “You too.”

She smiles, a smile that seems to carry secrets. “Maybe we can talk after the show.”

I want to say no, that I’m focused only on my band and the music, but something inside me wants to say yes.

The battle isn’t over yet. Other bands will play, and the audience’s decision will be the final verdict. But now, everything feels different. It’s not just about winning — it’s about something beginning to grow in this dark garage, between distorted chords and stolen glances.

The stage calls, and I know I’m ready to answer.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***