My posts during April form part of the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. My theme this year is Jazz and I've selected a variety of classics from across the board. I've mixed up the performers a bit though ...
They'd called her the rock chick - not a rock chick you understand - the rock chick. For she was the coolest of that whole cool genre - and nobody ever doubted, or questioned that fact. Maybe it was because we never got to see her suffer the ravages of age.
No-one knew where she came from, or how she got to be on the scene, but once she hooked up with 'him', no-one ever cared to ask. They were the cool couple, the one who could make or break any party by simply turning up - or not. Yet rumours abounded that she was kind, that she looked out for the young girls, made sure they were safe, that they knew they could always come to her. It was easy to believe for, although she was beautiful, she had the look of an angel, and the voice of one too. Beside his hard drinking, hard partying, loud and rash exterior, she looked even more angelic.
On the last tour, she'd been tired and had taken to staying at home, reading and looking after her chicks. He hadn't minded, he was busy catching up with the lads. But she'd had this cough and when it wouldn't stop, he'd insisted she saw someone. That someone had arranged for her to go into Jimmy's to have tests. She'd not left hospital again ...
Her chicks all came. They sat quietly in her room, reading to her, singing to her, sitting quietly when she slept and leaving them alone when he came by. The day she'd slipped away, he'd been to the pub first and arrived too late. Distraught, he'd held her close, then kissed her and went back to the pub where he could mourn her the way he knew best. To drink and cry, and to shout to the world that he wouldn't be long behind her. His mates all came by, they'd heard the sad news. They came to pay their respects to the rock chick and to take care of her mate.
© 2017 Debra Carey
For those who don't know, Jimmy's is St James's - a well-known British teaching hospital, based in Leeds.
Representing the blues is this truly cool number. One of those old songs where no-one is sure of its origins: possibly based on an American folksong called "Gambler's Blues", possibly on an English folksong known as "The Unfortunate Rake". I went looking for the version performed by Tom Jones and the Jools Holland Rhythm & Blues Orchestra (I have the album) but found so many other amazing versions. This one is by that great bluesy rocker, the Mad Dog & Englishman from Sheffield - Joe Cocker.
Comments welcomed! Does this song inspire you to write? Do share your your story in the comments here, either in full, or with a link back to your site.
The Old Shelter
Iain Kelly Writing
Bit 2 Read
A Back of the Envelope Calculation
No Love for Fatties
What are They
Petrichor and Clouds