The Filí

Conor woke up on the bus with a start. He instinctively clutched his guitar closer, a habit he had learned from sleeping in shelters and on the street. When you had something that could earn you money, you did not let it out of your sight and you never let go of it. Of course, those days were long gone now. Instead of falling into a restless sleep on a cot or a stack of cardboard boxes, he had fallen asleep on the band’s comfortable tour bus. As lead singer, he had his own little room on the bus. He had his own house by the beach back in California. Life had changed for the better thanks to music. He had gone from being without family or friends to being part of a band, a new family. He tried not to take it for granted. There was a knock at the door and he hurriedly pulled on a t-shirt and swept his hair back.

“Come on in,” Conor said. “I’m decent.”

The door opened and Ella stepped inside. The band’s drummer was a rainbow of color, as usual, multi-colored hair and flashy clothes. “Decent?” She asked. “I suppose you are fairly decent for a rock star.”

“I do my best,” Conor said. “What can I do for you? Did you read through that notebook yet?”

“It’s always work with you,” Marta said. “You need to rest while you can before we get to the next town.”

“I don’t know how long this ride is going to last, Marta,” Conor said. “I need to get everything I can from it.”

“The ride is going to last at least as long as it takes to get some rest once in a while,” Marta said.

“So why are you here?” Conor asked. “If it’s not work then it means it’s not time for sound check yet either.”

“It’s mail call, you ass,” Marta said with a laugh and she tossed an envelope onto Conor’s bed. “Phil’s office is still going through the latest batch of fan mail but they forwarded this along first.”

Conor picked up the envelope which was already unsealed but he had gotten used to that. “Why’s that?” he asked. “What makes this one so special?”

“I don’t read your mail, jerk,” Marta said with a shake of her head. “But Phil said it was from family.” She shrugged.

“Family?” Conor asked and he looked at the front of the envelope. “Oh, it’s another one of these.” He smiled and tossed the envelope back onto the bed.

“One of what?” Marta asked. “Now you have me curious. Besides, you’ve never talked to us about family.”

“Because I don’t have a family,” Conor said. “I’m an orphan. I never really had anyone at least not for long.”

“I’m confused,” Marta said. “Who is this cousin then?”

Conor rolled his eyes. “She claims that she’s my cousin,” he said. “She spotted one of my tattoos on a magazine cover and swears that it could only mean that we’re family. It’s crazy.”

“But don’t you wonder if she’s right?” Marta asked. “You could connect with actual blood after all this time?”

Conor shrugged. “When I first read one of her letters I worried that she was only after fame and fortune,” he said. “Then after reading on, I realized that she’s crazy.”

“Crazy?” Marta asked. “Our lives are already crazy. What kind of stuff is in those letters?” Her face became concerned. Their band had not exactly achieved superstar status but they definitely dealt with their share of craziness.

Conor picked the envelope again and this time he slid the letter out of its envelope. The writing was done with a calligrapher’s hand much unlike the usual crazies who had wild or disturbing handwriting. At least, most of them did. “Get this,” he said. “She says the tattoo signifies an old, old group called the Filí.”

“How old?” Marta asked.

“Ancient,” Conor said. “And Irish. They traveled around and fought monsters. It sounded really badass when I first read it.”

“That doesn’t really sound like you,” Marta said. “The closest we have to that is Luke but that’s only in his video games.”

“Well, here’s the thing that fits,” Conor said. “The Filí was a group of traveling poets and musicians. They apparently used that as a cover to fight everything that went bump in the night.”

“Then why don’t we know about monsters?” Marta asked. “It seems like that would be front page news at some point.”

“The Filí used to sing about monsters and crazy stuff all the time,” Conor said.

“How metal,” Marta said with a grin. She threw up metal horns with both hands.

“Except nobody believed them,” Conor said. “So they just kept singing and people enjoyed the tales, few knowing that the supernatural things in the songs were real.”

“Weird,” Marta said. “So how did they fight monsters?” She leaned against the wall, completely interested now.

“They used magic,” Conor said. “and they drew that magic from music. Their voices and instruments could summon elemental forces and great power. I’m really not sure exactly how it was supposed to work. In a pinch, they just hit the monsters with something blunt or sharp.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance that you could do magic?” Marta said a little too loudly. “If there’s even a chance of that, don’t you think she’s worth talking to?”

“I don’t know,” Conor said. “She said all sorts of things that sounded like they came from a fantasy paperback. She said I would see strange things that other people missed.”

“Have you seen anything?” Marta asked.

“Only what I would expect from sleep deprivation and malnutrition from eating out of a dumpster,” Conor said. “I think it’s all some sort of angle she’s working.”

“What’s that on the bottom of that letter?” Marta asked. “It looks like music.”

Conor held it up and looked at it and shrugged. “It is music,” he said. “It’s labeled ‘song of awakening’. Whatever that means.”

“Well, whatever I guess,” Marta said. “We should probably get something to eat before sound check. Put the guitar down and come with me and we’ll grab the rest of the band.”

“Sure,” Conor said and he laid the guitar on his bed. He stuffed the letter into his back pocket and followed Marta out of the bus.

(Written 3/28/19)

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Tags: 2019, A to Z, A to Z Blogging Challenge, A to Z Challenge, F, Fili