The van bumped across gravel with the grace of a drunk moose. Dust clouded the windows as they pulled up to what the GPS optimistically called “Red Pines Event Pavilion.” It was, in fact, a half-rotted barn with a corrugated tin roof and a faded \u201cBud Light Presents: Open Mic Friday\u201d banner barely clinging to the eaves. A neon horseshoe sign blinked \u201cECLIPSE TONIGHT\u201d with a C flickering like it was on life support.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gabriel leaned forward in his seat and peered out the windshield. \u201cI think I\u2019ve been here in a nightmare once.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs it the smell of cow shit or the tumbleweed stuck in the fence?\u201d Maya muttered, clutching her guitar case like it might leap out and run away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark squinted through the windshield, unimpressed. \u201cThis place is haunted.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019d rather hope it\u2019s haunted,\u201d Thane grunted. \u201cMeans the last band probably didn\u2019t survive to leave a bad review.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Rico, sprawled sideways with his guitar case wedged between his knees, pointed toward the double doors that looked like they were once kicked in by an angry goat. \u201cWhy is there a stuffed deer head outside the building?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jonah, barely awake, pulled his hoodie tighter over his head. \u201cPlease let it be taxidermy. Please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Inside wasn\u2019t much better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The \u201cstage\u201d was a wooden platform raised exactly six inches off the ground. It leaned just slightly to the left, as if it had opinions. A single overhead light swung gently above it, flickering like a possessed lightning bug. The only speakers in sight looked older than three of the band members combined. There were two mic stands\u2014both duct-taped\u2014and a jukebox in the corner blasting Toby Keith at skull-rattling volume.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The bar owner, a wiry man in a denim vest with a handlebar mustache that deserved its own zip code, stepped forward and held out a greasy hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou the Eclipse fellers?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gabriel\u2014ever the diplomat\u2014grinned and shook the hand. \u201cYes, sir! We\u2019re Feral Eclipse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The man looked around the group, pausing on Gabriel\u2019s clawed hand and then on Mark\u2019s towering gray-furred frame. \u201cDamn. Y\u2019all ain\u2019t just a band. Y\u2019all a damn furry convention.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thane inhaled sharply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark put one clawed hand on Thane\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gabriel held up a hand quickly. \u201cWe\u2019re all musicians, sir. We just play a little harder than most.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The owner snorted. \u201cHarder, huh? We usually do country covers on Fridays, but hell, y\u2019all can play whatever. Long as the beers flow and no one dies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLow bar,\u201d Maya muttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Rico wandered off toward the \u201cdressing room,\u201d which was actually a broom closet with a folding chair and a single fly strip swinging from the ceiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And yet\u2014somehow\u2014as soundcheck began, something shifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gabriel\u2019s first bass thrum reverberated through the rickety walls like thunder. Jonah\u2019s drums\u2014jammed between hay bales and a broken jukebox\u2014exploded into rhythm. Maya\u2019s guitar screamed defiance into the stale air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The local crowd started drifting in\u2014cowboys, punks, confused tourists, a dude in a tank top that read \u201cBeers Before Fears.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And they loved it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They whooped. They howled. They two-stepped in the mosh pit. One guy cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the time the set hit its peak, the band was on fire. Mark\u2019s lighting rig was working overtime with whatever surviving bulbs he\u2019d found. Thane looked like a war god behind the mixing board, soaked in sweat and growling orders into his headset mic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the barn? It didn\u2019t collapse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They played their hearts out. They screamed. They burned. They converted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When it was over, the crowd roared for more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside the barn, beneath the red Oklahoma sky, the band leaned against the van. Gabriel passed around cold sodas from a cooler someone left behind. They were sticky and half-warm, but perfect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark smirked. \u201cSo. Not haunted.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thane took a long drink. \u201cWorse. It was honest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gabriel raised his soda. \u201cTo the barn that didn\u2019t fall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maya clinked hers. \u201cAnd the stage that almost did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Everyone laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jonah looked back at the building with a stunned expression. \u201c…What the hell just happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thane shrugged. \u201cMagic. Or moonlight. Maybe both.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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