In Like a Lion (II)
ISSUE #95
[A tornado siren sounds in the distance]
[Green light; stormy skies; a ballroom with large windows. JEFF—hair too long and clothes too old—shambles to stage, pulling notes from his sweat-soaked pocket]
JEFF: Noise has always been electric. Before we held the sky's secret power, we considered thunderheads in the distance. Jellyfish clouds teetered thousands of feet above town-less prairie. Lightning sprang down in yellow bullets, so close we could play cat’s cradle with the trails. In storms, it may be dark, but the air catches a pale light and holds it, like the glow of faces watching fireworks.
[There's a sound like an incoming fighter jet]
JEFF: [shaking now] And our synapses are electric as well; our neurons microscopic thunderheads. Do we contain this power too? Same stardust, and all that.
[Distant crashes; the ground is cringing]
JEFF: [yelling over the wind] The brain is a storm, and I'm subject to its fronts—pressure systems, cold and warm. When my lightning strikes, it casts square patterns across my face, betraying me like flashes through bay windows. These songs are this thunder externalized.
[A boulder through the window sends him to the wall. The room is pummeled, its foundation uprooted, tables tumbling in spin cycle.]
JEFF: [running back to stage] Sometimes it takes a storm to bring back the sun.
[A banner is ripped from the ceiling, spelling "With love, Jeff"]
It is the first week of March, and that clarion marks a coming storm: it's the In Like a Lion issue, our yearly highlight of the heaviest music. For all who love hardcore, black metal, and doom—this week's squall carries a torrent of blood.