Death Of A Rockstar




Copyright © 2021 a.j. Lombardi all rights reserved



I was at the very top of my music career.  After years playing out in so many smoke-filled lounges for little to nothing in pay, “I had finally made it to the big time, and tonight was going to be the last night of the tour.”  I was looking forward to lying back for a while to enjoy the rewards of my work.   The afternoon before the concert, I spent some time walking through the park near the stadium to take in the sounds and sights of springtime. It felt good to be alone for a while and not have anyone notice me  for my fame.   Alongside an overgrown grouping of bright yellow flowers, I saw a young mother with a child who appeared to be about three years old.  The young mother was trying to take a photo of her child standing next to the flowers.   I stood there for a few moments and caught the child laughing as she pointed her little finger to the tattoos on my left arm.  “I guess it appeared funny to her to see a grown man with what must have looked like a cartoon painted on his arm!  Each time she raised her little finger to point towards me, I could hear the sounds of tiny bells she wore as a bracelet.  My time in the park quickly passed, and I headed off to the stadium where the concert was planned.  About seven P.M  I went to my dressing room to relax and wait for the next show to begin.   As I sat alone, I could hear the outside, muffled sounds of the stage managers, musicians, sound crew, and various directors frantically going about getting everything ready for my performance.



On the wall directly in front of me was a very large round black-rimmed clock. “It reminded me of the type of clocks we had back in grade school. The large second hand would make a loud ticking noise after passing over each of the clock's small black lines. “Just like back in grade school, it seemed like it took forever for five minutes to pass.” While waiting for the hours to pass, I thought back in time on how hard it was to build my music career. “It was not the success that I thought of, but rather the failures and hard times I had been through to get me to my current point of success.” For a moment, I thought, “that old black clock on the wall seems to take forever to get to another five minutes, “And yet life goes by so fast.


About six-thirty, my manager entered the room accompanied by a young woman he introduced as a reporter who wanted to interview before the show.

About six-thirty, my manager entered the room accompanied by a young woman he introduced as a reporter who wanted to interview before the show. I agreed, and she then sat down across from me on a small wooden stool. “I was drawn in by her Mona Lisa smile and her mesmerizing blue eyes. “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone which such beautiful eyes! I did not notice a notebook or pen and figured that she would be doing a recording-style interview. She stared directly into my eyes while reaching into her briefcase for what I thought would be a recorder. Instead, her manicured right hand held a black thirty-two caliber Beretta handgun. “Within seconds of gazing into her blue eyes, I heard two loud bangs and felt incredible heat from the left side above my ear…


“As I fell to the floor on my back, I could hear the scraping sound of the wooden stool against the floor as she left the room, leaving the door open behind. Laying there, I listened to the same muffled sounds I heard before of stage managers, musicians, sound crew… getting ready for the show. “In that moment, I was truly alone, and life continued to go by without anyone’s notice as to what just happened! Strangely enough, I could still hear the sound of the second hand of the old black clock ticking each second away.


Laying motionless, it was as if I could see life going by as if a spectator in a movie theater. “My eyes closed for a while. Within what seemed like a few moments, a young Hispanic man entered the room. Seeing what had taken place, he yelled for someone to call 911. He then knelt down next to me, placing his hand under the back of my head to try to give me some comfort. He had such a look of compassion in his eyes. “For a moment, I felt bad that his hand and shirt sleeve was getting all wet until I noticed that what I thought was water was red.” The motion in the room turned to frenzy as people were screaming and running in different directions, trying to encompass what had just happened. In the background, I could hear my name being chanted by the audience in the stadium. They had no idea what just transpired and continued their chanting waiting for me to appear on stage. Looking upon the wall, I saw the old black clock ticking its second hand away but strangely could not hear the loud tick as I once did. “The only sound I heard was the beautiful melodic sound of tiny bells like the ones I heard in the park that day, accompanied by the most beautiful voices I have ever heard as my time slipped into eternity.


The End.



a.j. Lombardi is a new American author whose other books may be viewed on this website.