I Bleed Music

By Stefon Mears

Sinclair bleeds music. Better known as "Sin Man," he leads his band Backmasking with killer vocals, devastating charisma, and top-notch songwriting.

 

Today, Backmasking starts to tour Denmark. Not the country. The town in Oregon. A point of contention, made worse by a long drive. In an uncomfortable van. That starts making a funny noise.

 

Tempers flare. Violence. Ultimatums.

 

And a strange little cat named Puffer.

 

"I Bleed Music" -- a contemporary fantasy short story full of wonder, that looks at art, friendship, the power of a feline muse. From Stefon Mears, author of the Spells for Hire series, who shares his home with three cats.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thousand Faces Publishing
• Release date: Jun 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201919566

Book preview

I Bleed Music

I BLEED MUSIC

STEFON MEARS

Thousand Faces Publishing

CONTENTS

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About the Author

Also by Stefon Mears

Twelve hours. Twelve hours I’d been a prisoner to my bandmates’ farts.

This was no way to start a tour. Much less a tour that…

No. I wasn’t going to start on that again.

We were riding in Fitz’s van. At least, he called it a van. If you ask me, though, that thing might have come out of Dearborn as an Econoline, but it had been resurrected against its will so many times that I didn’t think any proper car manufacturer would have recognized it as a vehicle.

Well, except maybe to pump a silver bullet through the poor thing’s engine block and put it out of its misery.

Of course, there were those who might have tried to do the same thing to my band. God knows my parents wanted to.

You’re twenty-five years old, Sinclair. Don’t you think it’s time you yadda yadda yadda…

My mom ran away from home at eighteen to join the Marines. Turned her back on decades of Pennsylvania blue blood to do what was right for our country. Retired a full colonel after more than twenty years of service, and now she writes the Patriot Moms blog.

My dad didn’t follow his parents into their pharmaceutical practice. He got really into Japanese flower arranging, in high school, and opened his own florist shop after getting a bachelor’s in business.

Far as I was concerned, I was following my heart. Same as they did.

So every time they started yammering about responsibility and growing up, I tuned them out and thought about rhythm figures and melody lines. As I had since I was eight years old and picked up my first guitar.

A beat-to-death acoustic. An Ovation knock off that wouldn’t hold a tune for more than for more than five minutes at a time. The frets and neck were in terrible shape, because some