The Colour Society

They appeared in the dusty sunset, sweat glistening on their foreheads. In their hands, instruments, each of them. Murmurs ran through the growing crowd.

“What have they come for?”
“Do they want anything?”
“Where did our socks go?”

The atmosphere slowly electrified as leads were brandished and sticks were held high. A blast of pure rock radiated through the crowd and a great cheer erupted, equalling the fierce chords. They had no idea who these pilgrims of punk were or where they had come from but they knew they were in for a treat.

The first wave of songs crashed like a wave breaking against rocks. The performance was furious. The crowd leant forward to keep from losing their balance against the sonic wall of sound. They eventually gave way to a slightly tamer sound, tempering the performance with beauty and grace beyond the ken of mortal men. Suddenly, like an arrow piercing the heart of a king, the dragon of rock reared it's ugly head once again and the audience stepped back in fear. Their minds warped at the fear, the sadness, the beauty...Too many feelings to list. But a list wasn't needed to document this catastrophically rockalicious event, all that was needed were a pair of ears each.

As the silence fell like dying sunbeams across a golden evening, the quadro tipped their hats and thanked the crowd for everything, and, as the last sliver of the orange sun dipped beneath the horizon, they slowly headed off down the long and winding road. The quietly cold air seemed to hold no memory of the event that had just taken place, but it was burned forever, bright and hot, within the minds of those that had witnessed it.

It was...

The Colour Society