User blog:MrTyeDye/The Nightmare House (Part 3: Luna)

Previous Chapters: (Lori)

(Leni)

Luna lay herself back on her bed, idly plucking away at her guitar. It was February 12, the night of the Grammy Awards - an event that Luna, by all accounts, should have been eagerly anticipating. This year, though, she didn't really feel bothered to tune in. Few of the performing artists and nominees were there to represent her favorite genres - namely, hard rock and old school R&B - and she didn't care for the gloomy trap and midtempo pop that defined mainstream music nowadays. She knew that some of her siblings would probably be watching the show downstairs, but this was a night she was perfectly content to spend with her ax.

But then...

"Luna, get down here!" Rita called from upstairs.

Luna's ears perked up. "What's up, Mom?" she called back.

"They're honoring you on TV! Come see for yourself!"

Luna's eyebrows jumped at the thought. Honoring her? For what? As far as she knew, she hadn't done anything newsworthy in recent memory. Granted, she was pretty handy with her axe (and a few other instruments), but that alone didn't merit national attention, did it?

Regardless, she didn't think her own mother would lie to her, so she put down her guitar, left her room and bounded down the stairs to see what she was talking about. When she reached the bottom step, she saw her parents, along with Lincoln, Lori and Luan, gathered together on the couch and beaming with pride. The TV was tuned to CBS, and displayed an image of a tuxedo-clad Mick Swagger standing behind a podium, caressing a Grammy Award statuette with his left hand.

Luna broke into the biggest grin her face was capable of accommodating. "Mick Swagger?! At the Grammys?! Honoring me?!"

Luna couldn't believe that, of all the blogs she read about the ceremony, none of them bothered to mention that Mick Swagger was showing up as a presenter. She'd leave a strongly-worded comment on those blogs later that night, but for now, she had to hear what her hero had to say about her. She came forward and plopped herself on the floor right in front of the TV, putting her as close to the moment as possible.

"Now, I met Luna Loud at a family fun fair not too long ago," said Mick. "I've met some talented birds in my time, but Luna, mate, she just blew me away."

At this point, Luna had her hands clasped in front of her, and was trembling with excitement.

"Her tone, her improvisation, her command of that instrument... you should've heard it, mates, you really should've. She's gonna go on to break records and change lives all across the globe."

Mick Swagger then turned to the camera, causing goosebumps to sprout all over Luna's skin.

"Luna, luv, if you're watching this right now, I want you to know that I, Mick Swagger..."

The rockstar took a pause, and Luna waited with bated breath for him to complete his sentence. Any second now, his words would cement her as a future legend.

But after the beat, Luna saw her idol's warm smile twist itself into a haughty smirk.

"...am totally taking the piss, wankers!"

And just like that, the corners of Luna's mouth fell to the floor, along with the bottom part of her jaw. She was flummoxed by the sheer level of derision and scorn that entered Mick Swagger's voice at that very moment.

"Did you really think I'd put my clout behind some random pillock from Nowhere, Michigan?!" he cackled. "Luna's not a legend in the making! She's the kind of girl who'll end up plucking her electric twanger on the sidewalk for shillings!"

Luna's body and mind froze up, refusing to accept a reality in which her idol could be so spiteful and needlessly cruel.

"And nobody cares about the kind of music she plays, anyway!" he continued. "Have you seen the nominees and performers lined up for tonight? Bloody hell, I don't even know why I'm here!"

When Luna found the wherewithal to move again, her first instinct was to tear off her ears to punish them for relaying a message so foul. She wouldn't tolerate anyone trash-talking the power of rock in her presence, least of all the man who inspired her to pursue it.

Fortunately, she ignored that first instinct, and instead went with her second one: turning off the television. She snatched the remote off the floor and whacked the power button as hard as she could.

And nothing happened.

She whacked it a few more times, to the same result. No matter what she tried - lowering the volume, muting the set, changing the channel - nothing she was doing could mute the contemptuous cackling of Mick Swagger.

"Oi! I think she's tryin' to turn off the telly!" cried Mick.

Luna froze up again and let the remote fall to the floor with a clatter, as all the color drained itself from her face.

"What's the matter, Luna? Afraid of a little dose of truth?" asked Mick. "Well, if you're not gonna listen to me, maybe you'll listen to yourself."

Luna's heart lodged itself in her throat, and remained there for an excruciating spell as she waited for Mick Swagger to clarify that statement. For that moment, all that could be heard was the assorted laughing and jeering from the Grammy Award attendees: hundreds of the wealthiest and most famous people on the planet, united in their derision for one fifteen-year-old aspiring musician.

Then, Mick Swagger walked up to the camera, closer and closer, until his face took up the entire frame. He parted his blinding bangs, revealing his malice-tinted eyes.

"Look behind you, Luna."

Against her better judgment, Luna looked over her shoulder, and saw that the family members who were on the couch just a minute ago had disappeared. In their place was a decrepit old woman, wiry and frail-looking, with short, wispy brown hair. She wore a black t-shirt with a skull on it that was big enough to reach her knees, and on her lap sat a rusty, withered purple electric guitar.

"Your idol speaks the truth, luv," she croaked out. "I grew up thinking my talent was going to take me places. What a fool I was."

Luna jumped to her feet and jabbed a defiant finger at the old woman. "You're WRONG!" she hollered. "I'm not gonna end up like you, you... you old fart! I'll practice and rehearse and never give up!"

The old woman laughed mirthlessly. "You think you're the only one in the world who practices and works hard?" she asked. "Lots of people do. Some people play until their fingers fall off."

She then lifted a hand off her axe and held it aloft for Luna to see. Luna watched aghast as the old woman's bony, brittle fingers sloughed off her hand and crumbled into dust, as if they were sculpted out of dry sand.

"And they all go on to be nobody you've ever heard of," she said, venom entering her tone. And as contempt possessed her voice, so to did it possess her face; her thin, chapped lips twisted up into a malevolent grin.

"You'll never make it, Luna. You won't even get Sam to like you."

Luna's eyebrows arched downward, as her teeth clenched together and her hands balled themselves into fists. The indignation that'd been welling in her gut ever since the conversation began was getting harder and harder to repress. "Leave. Her. Out of this," she growled.

But the old crone, apparently, couldn't resist the urge to deliver one more zinger.

"Too bad she prefers blokes."

At that moment, Luna exploded, rage hotwiring her body as she stomped over to the old woman. "SHUT UP!" she bellowed, smacking her hard against the face. Luna could feel the woman's fragile body crumple from the blow, which in any other situation would have been her cue to pull her punches and apologize. Instead, she just left her laid out on the couch, turned away and started stomping back to her room, unable to take another moment of the old woman's sickening words.

"I'll show her," Luna grumbled to herself. "I'll show everyone! I'll... I'l be the best that ever was!"

Luna intended to spend the next hour or so shredding like a maniac, channeling her anger into her ax and producing a sound that would blow all of her haters and doubters away. But just as she reached her room and grabbed the doorknob, she felt a rigid, icy claw grip her by the ankle and sink its nails into her Achilles' tendon. Luna shrieked in pain as the claw pierced her skin, and shuddered at the sensation of warm blood dribbling down her heel. When she looked down to find the source of the pain, she saw the old woman crawling across the floor, her mouth open in a grim howl that displayed rows of jagged, chipped, decaying teeth.

"You'll be nothing, Luna! Nothing! Nothing! NOTHING!"

And that was the last thing Luna heard before she woke up.