From the Dirt he always comes back to you
rough draft of the first chapter of my Sammick fic
A day like this always made Sammie question if it was better if he never picked up a guitar. If he just became a preacher like his Daddy, only opening his mouth to praise God. Sammie looked at his aged calloused hands from years of playing, he missed the pain. When he first started, the strings indented and ripped at his fingertips only to barely get calloused over the next day. Now he can’t feel a thing.
“Sammie you’re up” Allen, the owner of the club, an older gentleman. He reminded Sammie of Delta Slim, and when the thought of that got too much for Sammie he quickly made an excuse to not show at the juke, the excuses were getting less frequent but the ache was still there
Sammie wordlessly shuffled on stage with his guitar hanging off him
“Alright, a lot of you already know where I’m from, but today I’m going to show you. It’s my turn to bring some southern blues to ya city folks up here”
The crowd laughed and started cheering Sammie on
Sammie settled on his stool on stage and brushed the strings of his guitar
When the crowd cooled, he began to strum
A low hum, “Somebody take me in your arms tonight”
His eyes firmly shut, reminiscing about this same day 2 years ago. He hoped every year that maybe there was a chance he could see his family again, this would be it; it never was
Sammie held the last note, squeezing all the air he could muster out of his diaphragm
The crowd clapped, whooping and stomping
Sammie’s eyes fluttered open, remembering himself he flashed the crowd a strained smile hoping they didn’t see the way it pulled at his face in the dark lit juke, it felt like a lie but he could only hope what the crowd felt lingered on some truth
