Michael Chase and his band

I’m atop a hill smoking a cigarette while I watch my high school graduation happening on the football field below. I am alone.

I am 19 years old. I’m a bit under six foot, way skinnier than I should be, and currently wearing a graduation outfit (my mom threw a fit until I put it on; she will throw a bigger fit when she doesn’t see me walk on stage to accept my diploma). I’m smoking the cheapest cigarette that I can convince someone to buy when I approach them outside my local gas station.

I’m not wearing my glasses that I am supposed to wear because it makes me look like a dork, so I’m always squinting a bit. My long hair hangs down slightly past my neck, and my face has just a tinge of stubble. I have a tattoo (that got me the belt from my dad) on the back of my hand of a pentagram.

Can you tell I’m trying to look cool?

Is it working?

I take another drag. I listen to the rumblings from below me as name after name is called, followed by cheer after cheer of proud families and friends. It could be my ears playing tricks on me, but I swear I distinctly hear them call my name from the stage.

“Michael Chase!”

Oh yeah, my name is Michael Chase. You may think the name sounds familiar, but it doesn’t! Not yet, anyway….

One day, I plan to be known worldwide. Stadiums chanting my name. Women moaning my name. Random people saying my name in casual conversation because I am that important to the cultural zeitgeist!

But, now?

Now I’m a nobody.

I’m sitting alone, smoking a shitty cigarette, not down there with the rest of the people my age graduating high school like I should.

You know what?

Maybe that’d make a good song.

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Hey! MichaelChaseLit here! Here’s my second story… you like it? Was that a good hook? I’m excited to start this journey with you all!