A bit of a Blue Peter style post this week (
here's one we did earlier). This is the first part to a story extract I posted a while back called
A Gothic Evening. I'll repost the second part (without the opening blurb) to keep the story in sequence. Hope you enjoy.
What
do you wear to a Goth concert? That was the question I pondered as I stared
forlornly into the wardrobe looking for suitable clobber. After some
deliberation I decided upon a faded pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with the
logo ‘Anthrax!’ across it. Goths wore
make up and stuff didn’t they? I thought briefly about borrowing some of mum’s
black eyeliner – and rapidly dropped the idea. Best not to give my sister too
much ammo, she frequently muttered comments about bottle blond brothers with
girly hair; too trendy my sister - what with her Erasure tapes and all that.
A knock at the door interrupted these musings. Before I answered, I made
the finishing touch to my Goth rock look – a ‘Motorhead’ pendent in the shape of an iron cross. Not strictly
Gothic – but who cares?
At the front door were Matt and Ant, who,
like me, were togged up in their ‘metal’ gear. Matt wore denims and a ripped
‘Metallica’ t-shirt, while Ant sported a tasselled leather jacket and a pair of
black spandex trousers over his long legs - the image of a Liquorice Allsort
sprang to mind. As he dramatically flicked his hair over his shoulder I caught
the sickly whiff of petula oil. Yep, no doubt he’d been on a shopping spree at the
‘Oasis’ indoor market – he always did
have more dosh than the rest of us.
‘Wahay!’
said Matt grinning, ‘let’s get going - we’re meeting Justin outside the Art
Centre!’
‘Enjoy yourselves, girls!’ as we walked
down the drive, my sister's voice called mockingly from her bedroom window.
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