I usually put out stories mid-day, but this one felt better for an evening release. Yes, more wordplay for the title.
Hope you like it!
Lucinda only plays in minor key, no matter the song. She spends hours laboring over her covers just to avoid the false cheer of the major yet can’t bring herself to delve into augmented. Minor makes sense. Sharp twangs turn happy tunes into mournful melodies, little distortions saying, Your world is subject to my interpretation. We’ll share this suffering.
She only performs local venues; her town is known for very frequent suicides.
Nobody connects these two facts.
One song, one death. Always a different demographic.
She draws bigger crowds every day.
Rumor has it she’s been offered a record deal…