Rock-And-Roll Eyes

Chapter One

"Today we sit down with Amelia Armstrong," the interviewer announced.

I took a deep breath. It had been many years since I sat down for an interview. Many years, in fact, since I had been in front of a camera at all. The last time I had done this, I was younger and I wasn't alone. Vincent was with me then, maybe even Milo or Ophelia. Now, it was just me.

I took a step out onto the stage. My bones ached all the time, and my voice had long since become hoarse. I was an old woman now, and I looked much different than I did in my youth. I no longer had rosy, childlike complexion, instead, I had wrinkles weighed down with age and skin much too big for my body. My hair, once a dark brown, had become white as a sheet.

They were interviewing me for who I was, not who I am. They want to know the story of my time in The British Invasion of the 1960's, and with two of the bands that were at the head of it all. Who I am now doesn't matter, at least, it won't for much longer. I am coming to the end, and I wanted the world to know everything I did before it was too late.

This interview was my idea, and it was my idea to make it all into a book. Most of my friends had all passed; Oscar, Benedict, Felicity, Bianca, Ophelia, Minerva, Janice, all gone. Vincent and Milo were still going, but nobody knew for how long. Soon, we would all reunite in the next phase of existence. For now, however, it was up to me to make sure the rest of the world knew the story of The Velvet Crusade and Revolution.

"Thank you for coming onto the show, Amelia," the reporter shook my hand.

He was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties. His blonde hair was slicked back and his suit was cleaner than clean. The smile he bore seemed to be held back with safety pins, but his eyes shone with curiosity. I could feel millions of equally curious eyes on me, all waiting to hear the details of a story everybody on Earth knew.

"It's my pleasure," I smiled.

The two of us sat down. The white chair they had for me was extremely uncomfortable, but I dealt with it. I ignored the gaze of six different cameras and a live studio audience and focused on the matter at hand.

"Amelia Armstrong, younger sister to the legend Vincent Armstrong and legendary drummer in her own right," the interviewer explained to the viewers, "I must say, it's an honor to sit here with you. You haven't been interviewed since the early eighties, is that correct?"

I nodded, "I was never one for interviews. The big stars were Vincent, Oscar, Benedict, and Milo."

"But, you were always there?"

"Always," I replied, "From the beginning to the end, I was there."

"I was told you were writing a book."

I smiled, "Yes, it has been in progress since the late seventies."

"What is it about?"

"It's about one of the greatest bands ever to exist," I replied, "Most of all, it's about four lads from Bristol who had hearts of gold and played with more passion than the world could contain."

"Where does the story begin?"

The interviewer smiled. I could feel the audience holding their breath in anticipation. I became excited with them. For the first time in decades, I felt young again. As if I were that little girl from Bristol. No more aches, no more pains, I was left with a big dream in a town not quite large enough to contain it.

"It started one such October evening in 1958," I smiled, "That night, two legends met face to face for the first time."

***