It began on a late summer's evenings, when the mist of Autumn circled, it's claws poised as the first leaf fell.
Pulling my jacked tighter I stopped to take in a poster on a darkened wine bar window. It advertised a Steam Punk Night! Tonight!
Conjuring images of safety pins, spiky green hair and chains, in a steamy room, I suddenly felt a woman behind me, lingering, her slightly breath elevated, close. It pulled at me, a shiver of pleasure touching the back of my neck, but as I turned she wafted onward, through a black doorway, slipping into the darkness beyond. Intoxicated by her perfume, I let her black Victorian bustle draw me into it's slip stream, sucking me through the doorway too.
I found myself standing in a strange place where time felt like it had twisted into a era that stood between realities. A world that might have evolved in the imagination of H.G.Wells. A milling chattering crowd! Laughter and lace, tall hats, basques, canes, flying googles, cogs, ticking clock, twisted mustaches, long dark long coats, all accompanied by the sound of a steam power organ played somewhere in the distance.
Feeling totally out of place, in this mysterious collection of the odd, I stepped backwards, attempting to leave, but the woman who had lured me in, turned her sparkling eyes towards me, her smile gluing me to the stone floor, and I was lost.
"Why hello" she drew closer, whispering into my ear, her breath silky, "so you couldn't resist, Good!" I felt my mind warp, my senses tingle with danger, mystery and excitement. "I have chosen you to tell our story, to reveal our world to others, that they might join us!"
I have no idea why I agreed, storytelling was something I had not considered, but it seemed I had no choice.
"Come meet Mr Crow." she said and as the silk of her black long gloves touched my shoulder, I gave in and followed her into the crowd.
Mr Crow turned to greet me, his dark eyes scanned me like prey.
"What have we here?" he asked smiling affectionately at her, his accent thick with East End smog
"I have found Our Narrator" she laughed, he nodded, spilling his beer as he sipped his dark eyes somehow less hungry.
"Good!" He swung his heavy arm around my shoulders,. "Are you up following us through time, narrating our tales of twisted musicianship?" The question hung as he pulled me close, and it felt like he held my soul in his palm. "Let me introduce you to the rest of my musicians."
He guided me through the dim light of the narrow bar, his steps silent on the grey stone floor, the scent of beer on his breath. I felt a claw of fear, of unpredictability touch my gut. What had I done? Why had I done it, and where was it going to lead?
As we approached an odd collection of eccentric individuals at the far end of the room, characters who might have stepped from a Jules Verne submarine, time seemed to shiver....
"This is" Mr Crow announced with a wild sweep of his hand, more beer now decorating the floor. "Wild Eyed, Wicked and Oblivious!" They all turned to stare at me. "They are my Mysterious bunch of musical misfits!" I stared back at them trying to smile, whilst he propelled me forwards towards them. "Beautiful Band this is our new teller of tales." They all looked at me with expectation. I look back wondering what to say.
"Don't worry about him, he's relatively harmless" said a golden eyed man offering his large hand to shake, Napoleonic gold buttons glinting on his military jacket as he laughed. "he just sings, and plays a bit of EWI!"
"and you only play the drum!" said a short woman, blue grey eyes that cut my soul as she scanned me up and down. "I am Jane,"
"Scary Jane!!" the other five chanted in unison!
"She plays the 12 string guitar." laughed a man with a slipping mad max helmet. "I'm Shane, play the six string guitar, and that there is Crazy Karen!" he pointed at the woman responsible for me being here, "watch out for the demon on her shoulder, it will make you do strange things"
"and he is never around at full moon" she retorted
As I looked at these odd people wondering what sort of strange sound they could make as a band, a slight movement caught my eye.
"don't worry about the ghost." Mr Crow announced as the figure in the tall top hat and waist coat bowed " He's the Islhoff! Tea chest bass player, he's tone deaf, no sense of rhythm, but drives the van, and possibly walks through walls!"
"be fair, he's getting a lot better," Shane said "and he's been here since the beginning. He like's Steampunk because of the dressing up....are you familiar with it, or is this all new and surprising to you? I wondered what to say, and decided on the truth
"No, I expected angry people and shouting bands."
"Not in this universe." Mr Crow tutted "Here time has fractured, we inhabit a Victorian inspired world, steam powered, where invention, acceptance, hope, and all futures are still possible. You can be who you want to be here, and our music celebrates this, telling stories with catchy chorus, and strange tales that you have to sing along to.....
Stepping back onto the street later that night, turning my collar to the cool air, alcohol swirling in my blood, it felt like my soul had been captured. Tomorrow, I had agreed to see the band play.....I was certain that what ever lay ahead was going to lead down rabbit holes, dragging me on mysterious journeys that I hoped I would survive.......
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