30MIN
Struggling rookie musicians and a fallen successful singer try an on spot audition
A whiny screech reverberated around the auditorium, causing the band in the desolate room to crouch, hands over ears. A couple of groans emitted from the members as the piercing noise faded.
"Shut it Harry," a ruddy faced girl spat, dull eyes glaring at her fumbling teammate. The aforementioned boy settled himself right, jostling past her with the speakers.
"Sorry, Carrie!"
Another girl, pierced face glinting in the artificial light, watched the pair with heavy set eyes.
"4 o'clock in the damn morning," Gwen drawled. "I don't have time for your bantering. Shut it."
Carrie's head whipped around, mouth ready to spit an insult, however the click of a door in the muffled distanced alerted the girls that the judges had arrived.
Even in the sea of felt seats, the three judges were pre-eminent in their sharp suits and piercing stares. They glided down the columns, evaluating the trio over their glasses and slid into their seats at the front. Carrie's harsh words dissipated from the tip of her tongue as she watched the clean cut, stocky men and panther-like woman enter smoothly. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the auditorium, yet they thundered to the scrawny gaggle of teens.
This would be their one chance to prove themselves. This was the breaking point. How they had toiled for months to scrimp and save to get here-and if the judges didn't like their audition, they were back to square one. From Harry to Carrie to Gwen, the utter panic and dread in their faces conveyed only one message-there was no doubt the nerd, the goth and the horse girl would ever be considered at the same level as some of the bands had auditioned.
The band realised this as they exchanged frantic glances. Clad in dusty, plain shirts, with sleeplessness etched on their faces and spots scattered around their pale skin. They knew the judges were aware of this, as they eyed them up and down over the rim of their gilt eyeglasses. Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the thick tension in the air suffocating him. A caustic silence reigned, as the team awkwardly set up their instruments.
"Name?" A faint, yet low voice growled from one of the stubbled judges. Carrie swallowed, auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders as a sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead.
"Mortal Ruin."
Several eyebrows raised from the audience before them.
"Show us what you've got then," the woman said snarkily as she looked at them, "I hope it's better than what your visuals promise, though."
And at that moment, something miraculous happened. From pretentious Carrie to snarky Gwen, and even frantic Harry the panic seemed to melt from their faces. They exchanged another glance-this time communicating some sort of hidden knowledge only the band knew.
"Oh trust me, lady." Gwen purred. "It's far from that."
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