The tour bus was already hot and humid half an hour into the drive. There were three black and red busses with darkly tinted windows headed to Rapid City, South Dakota to play their last show at the Civic Center. It would be a three day drive to get there and Corey was not looking forward to spending the rest of the week in a bus. He had things to do back home. As he was thinking he stared out the nearly blacked out windows and sighed. Nothing had been the same since Paul died. Nothing will be the same after this tour is completed. He ran his hands through his shoulder length black hair and turned electric blue eyes to the front of the bus. There sat Jim, his bus and band mate. Behind Jim there was an opaque screen where the driver sat. The drivers were not allowed to talk to the band and it was recommended vice versa.
Jim was reading a People magazine, his ice blue eyes scanning from side to side in a repetitive motion. Corey smiled a bit at his band mate and looked upon him with sad eyes. Jim had taken Paul’s death as well as the next member of the band, but Corey could still see the unshed tears behind the thick rimmed black glasses. He leaned back in the plush armchair and hefted his feet onto the table in front of him. The next stop was three hours away, he could enjoy a nap until then. As his eyes slowly closed goose-bumps broke out on his arms and vaguely he felt the presence of Paul.
A morphine overdose. That’s how it says Paul Gray from Slipknot died. But that’s not the truth. I know the truth. I just wasn’t sure yet.
It was four days before the last end all of be all Slipknot concert and I had tickets to go. Joining me were my two best friends, Isaac and Kayla and my boyfriend Zo. Of course they wanted to go; it was Slipknot. But, little did they know that this was a matter of life and death for me. Something was going on that the tabloids just didn’t know about, yet I still had this sneaking suspicion that I was right all along.
I sat at my computer in my bedroom and surfed the net for pictures of Slipknot, studying, scanning, looking for signs that I was correct. I couldn’t find anything legit, so I turned to Youtube instead and began to look up interviews from the band. An hour and a half later I had found minimal clues as to the madness within The Nine and I was about to give up until I saw a “rare” video of the press conference after Paul had died. The eight remaining members were in tears and grieved in voices choked with sobs devoid of the testicular fortitude that they were so known for. I teared up along with them although the initial incident had happened a few months ago. Joey, one of the percussionists, was crying so hard he could barely get out his words before passing the mic to Paul’s pregnant wife. I watched closely as Corey cried quietly and the others twiddled their thumbs nervously. What was to be nervous about?
I replayed the video several times, never becoming numb to the grief that was on display before me. I scanned each face, even the rare sight of Craig’s and saw at least one tear sliding down each and every one’s cheek. I played it again and zoomed in on each one, desperate to find something wrong and saw that Mick was dry-eyed and staring straight ahead instead of at the others or in the void of the reporters that swarmed them. He didn’t utter a single word and silently handed the mic to Chris who spoke for the remainder of the time. Goose-bumps rose all over my body, the eeriness of Paul’s death beginning to dawn on me. I closed out of the video and pulled up a word document and began to type:
Paul Gray’s Death
No hard evidence thus far, but I do believe Paul was murdered. An accident per-say, but nonetheless not a suicide. He had a child on the way for Christ’s sake! Not sure what to think of the press conference. I think Mick knows something and he’s not talking. Look him up later...
© Copyright 2016 Jenalie Stanson. All rights reserved.