Elizabeth the 333rd

Those old Scissors: And Proper Friend

My Nights Dreams, Vocals and Lyrics by Karen Eastland

The packed lounge chanted my name and like a doe caught in the headlights, I turned to see they were all looking at me.

“What the hell’s going on?” I thought as a rush of panic moved through me.

“Karen, Karen, Karen,” they all chanted, then the horror revealed itself.

“Could Karen please step up onto the stage,” the lead guitarist of a country and western band said into the microphone.

My mouth went dry and was unsure if I was having a stroke at seventeen, but the lights seemed to dim awfully low and something unholy had made my feet move towards that stage.

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See how this story evolved from this story: Abuse and the Melodious Word: Signing, How Hard Can It Be?