--Bohemian Rhapsody--
A thin snowfall coated the filthy streets of New York City.
Sander Loya pushed his glasses up his nose and rubbed his hands together in an attempt for warmth. He looked around at all the people on the street. The rushing yuppies, talking on their cell phones about mergers and yachts; the stoners, laughing and walking slowly across the paths; and then there were the homeless, sad and lonely.
Sander sighed, these poor people. He began to wind up his ancient camera as he continued looking around.
"December 24th, 9pm. Eastern standard time. From here on in, I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it...Instead of my old shit..." He gently placed the camera back on his bike and jumped on, riding though the alleyways to get back to the loft.
"How do you document real life when real life is getting more like fiction each day? Headlines -- bread-lines! Blow my mind! And now this deadline "Eviction -- or pay "Rent!!!"
Sander grimaced at the eviction notices. Picking one off the pole, he scrunched it up in his hand and threw it in the beige messenger bag hanging off his shoulder.
-
Shane Gray sat in his and Sander's loft, his brow furrowed in concentration. He strummed Musetta's Waltz on his Fender guitar before placing it down in frustration. Another power outage.
"How do you write a song when the chords sound wrong, though they once sounded, right and rare? When the notes are sour, where is the power you once had to ignite the air?" Shane heard a loud knock from the door.
Shane jumped off the table and opened the door for Sander who barged in, shoving the crumpled eviction notice in Shane's face.
"We're hungry and frozen!" Exclaimed Sander in anger. Shane grabbed the eviction notice out of Sander's hands and his eyes scanned over it. He rolled his eyes in anger, throwing it to the side.
"Some life that we've chosen!" He screamed back. They looked at each other, flames of anger dancing in their eyes. They sighed furiously.
"How we gonna pay, How we gonna pay, How we gonna pay, Last year's rent?!" The phone's ring interrupted cut rang through the apartment, Sander jumped over the obstacles on the floor to reach it. "Hello?" He answered, the anger fleeing from his voice.
"Hey guess whose back in town? It's Nate, man. Throw down the key!" Sander smiled and ran outside onto the fire escape, spotting Nathaniel Addison; he dropped the keys down to him and waved. Nate shot him a jovial smile and put the keys in his mouth while straightening up his bag.
"Hey, got a light?" Nate looked up to see three seedy looking men. He nervously pulled out his lighter and opened it.
"Sure man." Once it was out of his pocket, one of the men punched him in the stomach while the other went for his bag. Nate made a quick escape, running down an alleyway. Unfortunately, the men were smarter than he thought, running after him, they cornered him, pushing him to the floor, they began to take his few belongings. Nate fought back weakly, but they were too strong. Eventually, he gave up and let them take all of his things.
-
Shane rubbed his hands together, like Sander had previously done, trying to create some warmth in the dark loft.
"How do you start a fire, when there's nothing to burn, and it feels like something's stuck in your flue?" Shane sang in fury. He was practically shivering with nothing to cover him but the leather jacket he had thrown on. He blamed this all on the bitch called fate, she was finally getting him back for all the crap he had done when he was a teenager.
"How do you generate heat, when you can't feel your feet-?!" Sander sprinted over to Shane, replying to his complaint with one of his own. Though Shane didn't realize it, Sander was actually colder than him, with his frail frame and thin jacket with his even thinner classic blue and white scarf; he was chilled to the bone.
"And they're turning blue!" The unlikely pair sang in unison. The two grabbed the large metal barrel from the corner of the loft, placing it in the middle of loft were it was well away from the 'crap' (as Shane had bluntly put it) scattered around the apartment.
"You light up a mean blaze!"
"With posters!" Shane threw in the bad memories, posters with his face on it, advertising gigs at CBGB's and the Pyramid club.
"And screenplays!" Sander piped up, throwing the many unsuccessful screenplays into the large barrel.
Shane struck a match and threw it into the barrel, the flames danced, lighting up the dark loft.
"How we gonna pay, How we gonna pay, How we gonna pay, Last year's rent?"
-
Nate collapsed back against the wall, another failed attempt at getting back up.
"How do you stay on your feet, When on every street, It's 'trick or treat', And tonight it's 'trick', 'Welcome back to town', Oh, I should lie down, Everything's brown, And uh – oh, I feel sick!"
-
Sander looked out over the cold streets of New York from the fire escape.
"Where is he?"
-
Nate snapped his eyes shut and leaned his head against the wall.
"Gettin' dizzy"
-
"How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? Last year's rent!"
Sander smiled cynically, reading a line off one of his screenplays.
"The music ignites the night, with passionate fire!" Shane snatched the script off him.
"The narration crackles and pops with incendiary wit!" Shane mocked.
Sander grabbed his camera, zooming in on the fire. A smile grew on his face; he was truly getting into it now.
"Zoom in as they burn the past to the ground." He narrated, Shane joined in.
"And feel the heat of the future glow."
Sander and Shane looked at each other, before grabbing the barrel in their hands, keeping clear of the flames. They brought it out to the fire escape to see the rest of the tenants with their own eviction notices, lighting them on fire and throwing them down on the now busy streets over Alphabet City.
"How do you leave the past behind, When it keeps finding ways to get to your heart, It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out, Till you're torn apart, Rent!" Sander and Shane grabbed the barrel; the burning material fell down gracefully with all the other burning eviction notices. Sander clutched onto the edge of the fire escape, looking down at the beautiful flames.
"How can you connect in an age where strangers, landlords, lovers, your own blood cells betray, what binds the fabric together when the raging shifting winds of change keep ripping away! Rent!" Shane and Sander saw the familiar gas guzzling Range Rover drive up. They groaned, they were in for it now.
"Draw a line in the sand and then make a stand!!" Barron yelled. Jumping out of his Range Rover, he backed into it as the angry tenants surrounded him, chanting "We're not gonna pay!" He regained his composure, glaring at his two former friends on the fire escape. Shane shot him a cynical grin, while Sander visibly tensed, thinking of all the horrible things Barron could do to them.
Shane turned to Sander, the same cynical grin plastered on his face. "Use your camera to spar!" Sander's eyes widened, was he joking? His precious little baby girl?! With a new fire in his eyes, he replied back to Shane.
"Use your guitar!"
"When they act tough, you call their bluff! We're not gonna pay, we're not gonna pay, we're not gonna pay." The tenants inched closer to their, oh so benevolent, landlord. If you could call him that...
"Last year's rent! This year's rent! Next year's rent! RENT, RENT, RENT, RENT, RENT! We're not gonna pay rent! Cause everything is RENT!"
The tenants surrounded Barron, yelling obscenities at them. Eventually, he made his way out of the group. He looked up at the top floor's fire escape, and grimaced at the two bohemians perched on the fire escape, laughing at him. Barron raised his hand and motioned for them to come down.
Sander bit his lip.
He knew something like this would happen...
A/N- OH GOD! FINALLY! I FINISHED IT! Golf claps, as Angel would say. So yay.
A/N 2 – Sweet! That's chapter one, guys. Courtesy of the amazing Scarves. My chapter is next, no pressure or anything, right? Lol. Remember to review, thanks!
Jonas-Rentheads