Personal Narrative: My First American Civil War

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The guitars are shaking the Earth to the core with a deafening blow. Every single hit of the drum is a gunshot to the back of the head. Hanging upside down from the ceiling like a possessed bat is the bassist who somehow manages to play along with surgical precision. The sound of vocal chords ripping apart is blasting from the tall speakers. The words that are spewing out of the vocalist’s mouth are splattering into the war battered microphone. Both guitarists on stage are spinning and jumping, becoming a whirlwind with no signs of slowing down. One guitarist begins to hammer the floor with his instrument as if looking for a secret hidden underneath the wooden floorboards. The way that each member works together is a perfect example of beautiful chaos. The light placed in the back of the room was a lighthouse shining straight down towards…show more content…
Sweat is racing down the cheeks and forehead of his face like bullets. His arm stretches out to place the microphone in front of someone in the crowd like the hand of god reaching down to Adam. The army of people are all chanting along to the words that the vocalist is spitting out. The crowd’s eyebrows scrunch down with the expressions of war as they surround the vocalist. One last scream is ringing out, slowly fading away like a passing ambulance. The crackling, distorted noises coming from the guitar amp are getting quieter and quieter as each second passes like someone turning down the volume knob on a radio. A heavy moment of silence weighs down the room before an abrupt explosion of cheering and applause is all anyone can hear. All the members of the band gather side by side on stage like the cast of a Broadway musical and give one last bow. The Chariot now moves on to the next show on their tour to do it all

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