[3-Minute Novel] The Phantom Singing Voice Echoing Beyond the Reverberation | Amy - THE ORAL CIGARETTES
This work is fiction. It was written with inspiration from specific songs and lyrics, but it has no relation to real people or events. Please enjoy it as a short story born from music.
"Sorry, the guys for the joint gig got stuck in a traffic accident and won't make it."
The live house manager scratched his head apologetically. For us indie musicians, tonight's stage held significant meaning.
The person brought in to fill the gap was a mysterious female singer whose name I hadn't even heard of.
"I found a replacement. ...It's Amy."
I gasped when I saw her appear from the wings of the stage.
Her blonde hair shone through the lighting, and she carried a composed air. That person of unknown age grabbed the microphone without even a proper greeting.
The moment the sound rang out, the atmosphere of the live house was completely transformed.
A singing voice that was low, glossy, and yet seemed to grab directly at the depths of my chest. An overwhelming presence that felt like the embodiment of an ideal.
I forgot my own turn to perform and just stared at her from the edge of the stage, stunned. It was a shock like being struck by lightning, more than enough to describe as love at first sight.
After the performance, I rushed to the dressing room to greet her, but she was already gone. Even when I asked the manager,
"She comes like the wind and leaves like the wind."
was all he said to brush me off.
From then on, every time I heard she was singing, I frequented the live house.
From the corner of the audience, I looked up at her, though our eyes never met once. I hallucinated that the sorrowful melodies she sang were messages directed only at me.
I wanted to get even a little closer, but I didn't have the courage to speak to her. Every time I plucked my guitar strings, her singing voice echoed in my head.
"...She's not here again."
On a night when the seasons had turned once.
Her name was not at the usual live house.
The manager said bluntly while cleaning up empty beer bottles.
"Amy? Ah, she won't come here anymore. To begin with, I don't even know where she came from."
There is no one left on the stage where she stood.
All that remains is the reverberation of that glossy singing voice, stuck deep in my ears and refusing to leave.
I still don't know.
That the existence of "Amy," whom I admired, was painted over with such vivid lies.
Amy, I believe and wait, no matter what happens, that we can meet again here, the two of us.
Hey, you feel the same, don't you?
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大変はげみになります。