Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The End.
Welcome, To Your Imagination
5 reviewsGerard looks over the horrific scene. Can he change the past? And he finds his creations turned into reality...
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Chapter 2: Welcome, To Your Imagination
I realised that I was watching all this from some high vantage point. Almost as if I was sitting on the fucking ceiling – except the room didn’t seem to have a ceiling anymore. I was floating in the air, many feet above ground. Nobody could see me. They were all looking down at the floor. A couple of people were crouching around something. Frank was sobbing, smudging all his perfect makeup and leaning into Ray’s shoulder, who didn’t look too happy himself… Mikey was right over the end of the stage, sitting, looking up to the ceiling. Bob was standing up, near to Ray and Frank. Now Bob is known never to cry. Not ever. But I could see that his eyes were red and tears were trickling down his cheeks.
“Fuck,” I thought, “Why me? Why not some other rock star? My 4 best friends down there are fucking depressed because of me,”
I just wanted all of this to be over, and everything to be back to normal.
I heard a distant sound of an ambulance siren gradually getting closer and closer. The cluster of people drew back. And there was my body, lying there on the floor, motionless. The back of my head was oozing blood, like a thick red wine. My spirit suddenly felt a sudden wrench, a stretching, a tearing apart. I had an overwhelming longing to reunite with my body and yet I knew that I was utterly powerless. I could sense myself being dragged upwards by an unknown force, backwards, and upwards, and out of reach. The scene below was becoming more and more distant, till the figures – and among them, my own precious body – were nothing but tiny dots on the ground.
I was dying…dying and drifting away….
I suddenly awoke. The first thought that came to mind was ‘Was it all really just a dream?’ But as I looked around, all I could see was nothingness.
“Fuck,” I said to myself, as I turned around.
I saw the scene. The scene that I drew for the leaflet of the single ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’.
My scene. My drawing. My imagination. My creation was coming to life.
Or was it all real in the first place?
Does everyone go to the Black Parade when they die?
The main character, ‘The Patient’ stood in the middle, at the front.
He spoke, “Welcome, Gerard, to The Black Parade,”
[A/N: Conitnue? Review Please!]
I realised that I was watching all this from some high vantage point. Almost as if I was sitting on the fucking ceiling – except the room didn’t seem to have a ceiling anymore. I was floating in the air, many feet above ground. Nobody could see me. They were all looking down at the floor. A couple of people were crouching around something. Frank was sobbing, smudging all his perfect makeup and leaning into Ray’s shoulder, who didn’t look too happy himself… Mikey was right over the end of the stage, sitting, looking up to the ceiling. Bob was standing up, near to Ray and Frank. Now Bob is known never to cry. Not ever. But I could see that his eyes were red and tears were trickling down his cheeks.
“Fuck,” I thought, “Why me? Why not some other rock star? My 4 best friends down there are fucking depressed because of me,”
I just wanted all of this to be over, and everything to be back to normal.
I heard a distant sound of an ambulance siren gradually getting closer and closer. The cluster of people drew back. And there was my body, lying there on the floor, motionless. The back of my head was oozing blood, like a thick red wine. My spirit suddenly felt a sudden wrench, a stretching, a tearing apart. I had an overwhelming longing to reunite with my body and yet I knew that I was utterly powerless. I could sense myself being dragged upwards by an unknown force, backwards, and upwards, and out of reach. The scene below was becoming more and more distant, till the figures – and among them, my own precious body – were nothing but tiny dots on the ground.
I was dying…dying and drifting away….
I suddenly awoke. The first thought that came to mind was ‘Was it all really just a dream?’ But as I looked around, all I could see was nothingness.
“Fuck,” I said to myself, as I turned around.
I saw the scene. The scene that I drew for the leaflet of the single ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’.
My scene. My drawing. My imagination. My creation was coming to life.
Or was it all real in the first place?
Does everyone go to the Black Parade when they die?
The main character, ‘The Patient’ stood in the middle, at the front.
He spoke, “Welcome, Gerard, to The Black Parade,”
[A/N: Conitnue? Review Please!]
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