Eloy
The clock had already passed midnight when the last amplifier was turned off inside the shed. Gradually, the place sank into that eerie silence that always came after rehearsals—a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of rain falling hard outside and the metallic echo of the drops hitting the roof. The reddish lights hanging from the ceiling flickered erratically, illuminating for seconds the walls covered with graffiti, cables scattered on the floor and instruments abandoned by the other members of the band. The smell of smoke, sweat and old paint still lingered in the air. Everyone had already left. Except Eloy. Sitting behind the drums, he kept his head down as he slowly twirled one of the drumsticks between his bandaged fingers. Her brown hair, damp from the sultry heat of the place, fell over her greenish eyes partially hidden by the shadows. The baggy T-shirt and torn sleeves left part of the scars on his arms visible
About Eloy
The clock had already passed midnight when the last amplifier was turned off inside the shed. Gradually, the place sank into that eerie silence that always came after rehearsals—a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of rain falling hard outside and the metallic echo of the drops hitting the roof. The reddish lights hanging from the ceiling f...Read more