You’d like to hear a story that made me
nervous huh?
Well, it was a dark and stormy night… Come
to think of it, why put dark in that sentence? I mean it’s night, isn’t the
fact that it’s dark inherent to the situation?
Anyway, it was a cloudy and stormy night…
That doesn’t work either. You can’t really have a storm unless there are clouds.
Ummm… It was a stormy, stormy night… That’s
more like it. But come to think of it, it wasn’t actually storming. It was just
kinda windy and thunder occasionally rolled through.
It was a windy, thunderous night… Leaves
blew along the roads, and long shadows crept behind people, cast from the
streetlights. People milled about, on their way to nightclubs to drink their
bitter drinks, and dance to their deafening music. The cars were slow, coping
with the lack of signs present in the city, and being sure not hit the partiers
who spilled out of their clubs early.
I was sitting in my mixing studio, utterly
bereft of patience or attention after a long days work. I leaned back in my
chair and listened for signs of life in the studio. There were none. Not a word
of speech, or the tap of a step, just silence, heavy in the air.
I checked my watch, the house was in the
nine o’clock range, so I decided my work for that day was done. And all I was
doing was some mix refining anyway. So I shut off the equipment, gathered my
possessions, and locked the door, as headed to my home.
But then I did hear a noise. A noise most
familiar, the noise of noise that occurs when speakers are up, but no music
comes out. I turned and looked back, but all the studios were locked. It was a
Friday, and everyone was already out. I walked back to the studio I had recently
left, and looked through the glass door, unsure of what to expect. Perhaps a
person sitting, that somehow I had missed, or some kind of specter, determined
to give me the chills.
But look in I did, and here’s what I saw.
Inside there was nothing. Nothing at all.
But I did see, at the end of the panel, a
dial had been turned up, and a light at the end was glowing red. It was at this
point that I became unsure. Unsure of what I was seeing, or what I had missed.
So I swiped my ID card, and the scanner
beeped true, and in I went, back into that room. I kept my eyes peeled, for
sight or sound, of anything at all, that may posit a scrumb (something that
will endanger me.)
The truth, as it happens, was far less
dramatic. In my haste to leave, and my unaware state, I had knocked a piece of
gear from its place. It had fallen and landed at the top of the slider that
controlled the speaker output volume. And so as I left, the weight built up,
and pushed the slider down to its edge. And then the gear had fallen from the
console, and now lay on the ground. The dial was up, the noise came free, and
the piece of gear was no where to be seen.
So I turned off the dial, and looked around,
sure that I would be attacked and downed.
But quickly I calmed myself, and was back
on my way. Away from the control panel that haunts me still to this day.
Tada, my experience last Monday night that
I found a little unnerving.
I’ll read from you next week.
Andrew Lyons.
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