Classic Rock One-Shots

The Clairvoyant (~ Queen)

Roger annoyingly sighed for the thousandth time. Brian gave him a death glare, tired of him. The four members of Queen were sitting in the living room of the house they rented in the countryside, so they could spend some holidays together and write some songs if they had the inspiration. They booked it for two weeks, and it they had not even spent one week in it that they started to get bored. Whereas the landscape inspired Freddie and John for songwriting, Brian and Roger felt awkward in the middle of all this, although Brian usually loved everything about the countryside, its quietness and beauty. But with his three bandmates, he could not really enjoy all of that.

Freddie was sitting on one of the sofas, his two knees bent comfortably, his chin resting between them. He was staring into space, his long dark mane covering his collar bones. Next to him was John, head in hand, tapping his fingers on his knee; his long wavy hair was bothering him a bit, and he silently grumbled to himself that he sometimes wished to cut them. On the rug, Brian was sitting with his legs crossed, looking all around him, gazing at the weird decoration and cringing at a stuffed badger at the other edge of it. Roger had a couch all for himself, and he had one leg on the back of it, and the other touching the floor. One of his arms was covering his forehead, while the other was lazily resting on his stomach.

What a bore...

Sick of this heavy silence, though it usually would not bother him this much, John sat up and looked at his bandmates, sighing. “Aren't you going to move or do something? Really, we're not going to stay there for nothing, are we? It looks like we're waiting for death to come!”

“Death will come because of boredom” Roger complained.

“Let's do something, I don't know, let's go fishing!”

“Count me out” Brian shook his head “I won't hurt fishes just because I have nothing else to do. Sorry, Deaky.”

“Yeah, but I'm not 65 years old” Roger added, “I'll be fishing when I'm that age, maybe. I hope I won't, that's boring.” John rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. Freddie cleared his throat and ran a hand through his thick black hair, his chocolate eyes glancing at Brian.

“Perhaps we could just have a walk and walk the paths we didn't follow when we went out! What do you think, Bri? I know you love this kind of things.”

“Good idea” the guitarist nodded. “Rog? Deaky? Coming with us?”

“Yeah, better than nothing, I guess” the drummer sighed, sitting up on his couch and standing up. John stood up too, and the four of them walked to the entrance to put on their shoes. Freddie took a light cardigan, not really knowing what the weather was like. Brian put on his white clogs, looking for the keys of the house. They all got out, and the guitarist locked the door.

The soft Spring breeze blew back their hair, caressing their cheeks like satin sheets in the morning. Roger buried his hands in his pockets, following the other three out of the property. Freddie turned right, and they walked the desert road crossing vast fields that seemed to be endless. John was looking all around him, relieved to do something at last. Brian was admiring the landscape, just like his bandmate, and sometimes, they would show each other something interesting in the landscape. Freddie would took a look from time to time, whereas Roger was staring at his feet as he walked.

Minutes passed, and the four friends did not share other words. Freddie sighed, nervously playing with his fingers. He frowned, as he saw a wooden sign at the end of the road, which he had never seen. He elbowed Brian in the ribs, pointing at it. “What does it say?” the singer asked.

“I don't know, I don't have supersonic eyes, Freddie” the guitarist laughed. Roger and John got interested in the sign too, half-closing their eyes to try to distinguish the letters on it. They quickly got closer to it, only to read 'Clare, fortune teller' on it. As John and Brian shrugged and were about to walk away, Roger and Freddie grabbed them by the arms.