Written by Sack
Jason Hallam stood upon the stage with a sense of pride and exuberance. Around him stood his band who had supported him both physically and morally throughout their three-month climb towards stardom. Three months of continual highs and exposure to the very best that luck had to offer.
A glance towards stage left brought his goddess of a wife into view, along with their child, which he thought the world of.
Back to the front it could not possibly escape his attention that the restless hordes were screaming for him to reach out to them physically, emotionally and in some cases even sexually. He threw his guitar to the ground, creating an impenetrable wall of distortion that rang throughout the hall. He ran his fingers through his flowing blonde hair, wiped the sweat from his brow and launched himself triumphantly from the stage towards the writing bodies below.
As he sailed downwards something within him didn't feel quite right. An overwhelming feeling of disbelief overcame him, along with extreme nausea. Just as quickly as this feeling came to him his suspicions were confirmed. His downward movement stopped abruptly without the aid of a solid surface. The crowd dissolved into a blurred wire frame, which in turn whirled into a pure white light, and then nothingness. Everything within sight was subjected to the same fate within the next few seconds. Somewhere during this confusion the downward motion had continued once again and Jason found himself hurtling towards darkness at an unimaginable speed for what he envisaged to be an eternity, then the inevitable solid surface greeted him with a painful thump.
An immeasurable amount of time later, Jason sat up and glanced around at his surroundings, which were somewhat different to those, he had just experienced. His sight was still somewhat disturbed due to the abnormal light display he had previously been subjected to. Squinting around he could make out the form of a ragged sofa piled high in magazines and rotting food. Cautiously moving his hand along the floor he noticed the distinct lack of any floor covering, the floorboards roughly sawn and badly fitted together. He withdrew his hand from the woodwork and nursed his head, which absorbed a great deal of the impact. It was his observation that his hair no longer seemed so glamorous, it now seemed matted and disgusting. Jason shook his head violently in an attempt to remove the pain and fog that clouded his mind. As he did so he reclaimed more of his vision and a further scan of the room was in order. Nothing in the room seemed to register as being visually noteworthy, however a pair of uninspiring cream coloured boxes that were emitting soft but intrusive humming noises caught his attention. After staring at the smaller one at the top his eyes managed to resolve just enough detail for him to make a judgement about his situation. The screen was a familiar blue hue with bold white text within it. Jason grasped the keyboard with what remained of his concentration, firmly pressed three keys whose positions were firmly embedded into his brain owing to the amount of use they received and once again he was transported back to his electronic fantasy.