The Jazz Prodigy
The jazz club was alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, but as Sarah stepped onto the stage, a hush fell over the crowd. Her voice, smooth as velvet, filled the room, weaving a spell that held every listener captive. As the last note faded away, the silence was broken by thunderous applause. The audience rose to their feet, their clapping a separate standing ovation for the young prodigy who had enchanted them with her song.
Sarah, flushed with the thrill of performance and the warmth of the applause, retreated to her dressing room. The room, a haven of calm amidst the storm of adulation, was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the soft glow of vanity lights.
Meanwhile, in a corner of the city, Lady Mood sat in her opulent apartment, her eyes fixed on a scrying stone. The stone, ancient and inscrutable, held the power to reveal the future. Lady Mood, her heart filled with envy and fear, began to chant:
“Stone of sight, stone of might, Show me what hides in the night. In the mirror of the past and future’s lane, Reveal what loss and what gain.”
As her voice echoed in the room, the stone began to glow, its light casting long, dancing shadows. The future was about to unfold.
As the glow from the scrying stone intensified, an image began to form. Lady Mood saw herself on stage, her voice captivating the audience just as it always had. The stone’s voice echoed in her mind, “In this city of jazz and blues, none can match your muse.”
A sense of satisfaction washed over Lady Mood. She was still the queen of jazz, her reign unchallenged. But as she basked in the glory of her success, the image in the stone shifted. A familiar face appeared, a face that once harmonized with hers in the background. It was one of her former backup singers, a young woman with a voice as sweet as a nightingale’s song.
The stone continued, “But beware, Lady Mood, for change is on the horizon. The nightingale spreads her wings, ready to take flight. Her song is being noticed, her star is on the rise.”
A chill ran down Lady Mood’s spine. She had always known that her backup singers were talented, but she never thought the day would come when one of them could potentially outshine her. The stone’s warning echoed in her mind, a reminder that no reign lasts forever. But Lady Mood was not one to step down without a fight. The future might be uncertain, but she was determined to hold on to her crown for as long as she could. The stage was set for a new chapter in the city’s jazz scene. The queen still held the throne, but a new contender had entered the fray. The melody of the future was yet to be written.
With a determined glint in her eyes, Lady Mood reached for her phone and dialed her agent’s number. As soon as he picked up, she wasted no time in laying out her plan.
“Listen carefully,” she began, her voice steady and commanding. “I want you to arrange a concert. Not just any concert, but the grandest the city has ever seen. I want the best venue, the best musicians, and the best publicity. This is not just about showcasing my talent; it’s about reinforcing my status as the city’s queen of jazz.”
Her agent, taken aback by the urgency in her voice, promised to get to work immediately. But Lady Mood wasn’t finished. “And make it fast,” she added, her tone hardening. “I must squash that upstart Sarah before her roots grow too deep.”
As she ended the call, Lady Mood looked back at the scrying stone, its glow now faded. She knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. But she was ready for the challenge. After all, she was the queen of jazz, and she wouldn’t let anyone take her crown without a fight. The city was about to witness a concert like no other, a testament to Lady Mood’s undying reign in the world of jazz.
Sarah, still basking in the afterglow of her performance, picked up the morning paper. Her eyes widened as she read about Lady Mood’s upcoming concert. Despite the tension between them, Sarah admired Lady Mood and was grateful for the start she had given her in the jazz world. Without a second thought, she rushed out to buy a ticket.
As she stood in line at the ticket booth, a reporter recognized her. “Sarah!” he called out, “What brings you here?”
“I’m here to buy a ticket for Lady Mood’s concert,” she replied, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “I owe a lot to her. She’s the queen of jazz, and I’m here to support her.”
The reporter, sensing a good story, quickly jotted down her words. The next day, the headline read: “Rising Jazz Star to Cheer on the Queen of Jazz.”
On the night of the concert, the lobby was buzzing with excitement. Fans and reporters crowded around Lady Mood, eager for a glimpse of the queen. But when Sarah entered the room, all eyes turned to her. She walked up to Lady Mood and said, “You were amazing tonight, as always. You truly are the queen of jazz.”
Lady Mood forced a smile, but inwardly, she was seething. The attention that was rightfully hers had been stolen by this upstart.
Later that night, alone in her apartment, Lady Mood turned to the scrying stone. “Stone of sight, stone of might,” she chanted, “Show me what hides in the night.”
The stone glowed, and an image appeared. It was Sarah, her voice captivating a large audience. The stone’s voice echoed, “Beware, Lady Mood. The nightingale’s song grows stronger, her roots grow deeper. The city is listening, and they like what they hear.”
A cold dread filled Lady Mood. The warning was clear: Sarah was a force to be reckoned with. But Lady Mood was not ready to give up her crown
2
Threats and Farewells
In the days that followed, Sarah’s life took an unexpected turn. A mysterious figure, their gender indiscernible beneath a cloak, began to deliver anonymous notes to her. The notes were always the same, written in a scrawling, almost frantic handwriting: “I love Lady Mood. You are causing waves of shadows on her throne. Leave this city forever or suffer the consequences.”
Sarah, however, was not easily intimidated. She had worked hard to get where she was, and she wasn’t about to let an anonymous threat deter her. She continued to perform and gaining fans. The newspaper reporters were comparing her to the greats in the jazz world including Lady Mood.
Then one day she held a small press conference announcing that she was working on her first album, “Sarah Crimson: Jazz In Raintown.”
Every major city newspaper carried the story and some even gave her a headline.
That morning Lady Mood, upon reading about Sarah’s upcoming album release in the morning paper was overcome with rage. She saw the headlines, the praises sung for Sarah, and the anticipation for the album “Sarah Crimson: Jazz In Raintown.” It was clear that Sarah was not just a fleeting sensation but a rising star who threatened her reign.
In a fit of desperation, Lady Mood decided to take drastic measures. She contacted a notorious thief known for their discretion and efficiency. “I have a job for you,” she said, her voice cold and hard. “I need you to break into the recording studio where Sarah is working on her album. Steal all the recordings, all the music, and all the lyrics she has written. And once you have them, destroy them. Destroy every note and every word. Let nothing remain.”
The thief, enticed by the hefty sum Lady Mood offered, agreed to the task. Under the cover of darkness, they broke into the recording studio. With practiced ease, they bypassed the security systems, silently moving through the building like a shadow. They found the recordings and the handwritten lyrics, all carefully stored and ready for the final production.
With the stolen items in hand, the thief left the studio as silently as they had entered. They carried out Lady Mood’s orders to the letter, destroying every trace of Sarah’s work. By the time the sun rose, there was nothing left of “Sarah Crimson: Jazz In Raintown.”
Meanwhile, Sarah, oblivious to the disaster that had befallen her work, slept soundly, dreaming of the success her album would bring. She was yet to discover the devastation that awaited.
Across the city In the solitude of her opulent apartment, Lady Mood once again turned to her scrying stone. Her heart pounded with anticipation and a hint of fear. “Stone of sight, stone of might,” she chanted, “Show me what hides in the night.”
The stone began to glow, casting eerie shadows around the room. An image formed within the stone, showing Lady Mood on stage, her voice captivating the audience as it always had. The stone’s voice echoed in her mind, “In this city of jazz and blues, none can match your muse. You are still the queen, your reign remains supreme.”
A wave of relief washed over Lady Mood. She was still the queen, her throne unthreatened. But as she basked in the glory of her success, the image in the stone shifted. It was Sarah, her voice captivating a large audience. The stone’s voice echoed, “But beware, Lady Mood. Sarah is rising fast. Her song grows stronger, her roots grow deeper. The city is listening, and they like what they hear.”
A chill ran down Lady Mood’s spine. Despite her efforts to destroy the album, Sarah was still a force to be reckoned with. The stone continued, “Your efforts to destroy the album, though seemingly successful, were not complete. You see, my Lady, Sarah has a fine mind, and every note and every word of ‘Sarah Crimson: Jazz in Raintown’ is stored in her memory. She will build her album again.”
The scream of rage that came from Lady Mood’s mouth was volcanic, filled with the molten fire of hatred and in a voice so raw it was demonic she swore a greater vengeance than any human should be able to utter. “I will silence you Sarah Crimson once and forever.”
The morning sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Sarah arrived at the recording studio. She was greeted by the sight of a broken lock and scattered papers. Her heart sank as she realized what had happened. Her album, her hard work, was gone. She felt a wave of devastation wash over her, but she was not one to be easily defeated. She was determined to record the album again, to bring “Sarah Crimson: Jazz in Raintown” back to life.
Just as she was about to share the news with her agent, he arrived at the studio with a smile on his face. “I have good news,” he announced, holding up a small disk. “I kept a reserve copy of the album, just in case something went wrong.” Relief washed over Sarah. Her album was safe. It would be released, and she would perform at a huge concert to promote it, singing all the songs that had been so cruelly stolen from her.
News of the album’s survival spread quickly. The city buzzed with anticipation for the concert and the release of “Sarah Crimson: Jazz in Raintown.” When Lady Mood heard of this, her anger drove her to near insanity. She had been so sure of her victory, so sure that she had crushed Sarah’s dreams. But Sarah was still standing, still singing, still threatening her reign.
“I will not fail this time!” Lady Mood uttered wildly, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. She began to make plans, secret and dark, to rid herself of the upstart Sarah once and for all. But Sarah, oblivious to Lady Mood’s plans, continued to prepare for her concert, her spirit undeterred by the threats and the theft.
3
A Star in the Making
Sarah Crimson, undeterred by the threats and theft, embarked on a tour of the jazz clubs in Raintown. Each performance showed her resilience and talent. Her voice, rich and soulful, filled the clubs, captivating audiences and drawing them into her world of jazz.
As she performed, her popularity grew. People were drawn to her music, her story, and her indomitable spirit. The city was buzzing with talk of Sarah Crimson, the rising star who had overcome adversity to shine brighter than ever.
Her performances were not limited to the jazz clubs. She was invited to radio and TV sessions, where she charmed the hosts and audiences alike with her music and her story. Her upcoming album, “Sarah Crimson: Jazz in Raintown,” was eagerly anticipated, and each mention of it only served to increase the excitement.
Meanwhile, Lady Mood watched as Sarah’s popularity soared. She saw the crowds at Sarah’s performances, heard the applause, and read the glowing reviews. She saw Sarah on TV and heard her on the radio, her music reaching more and more people. It was a stark contrast to her own waning popularity. The notoriety she was used to was fading, replaced by the fresh and vibrant presence of Sarah.
In her opulent apartment, Lady Mood turned to her scrying stone. The warnings it gave were becoming more urgent. “Beware, Lady Mood,” it echoed, “Sarah’s star is rising. Her music is spreading, her roots are deepening. The city is listening, and they love what they hear.”
Despite her jealousy and rage, Lady Mood could not ignore the truth. Sarah was a force to be reckoned with, a star in the making. Her attempts to sabotage Sarah’s success had failed, and now she was left to watch as Sarah’s popularity eclipsed her own and that made rage in her deepen to madness, the quiet and deadly depths of darkness.
But Sarah, oblivious to Lady Mood’s jealousy, continued her tour. She performed at each club with passion and energy, her music resonating with the audience. She promoted her upcoming album and concert, her excitement infectious. The city of Raintown was captivated by Sarah Crimson, the rising star of the jazz world.
As she prepared for her concert, Sarah remained undeterred by the threats and the theft. She was determined to share her music with the world, to let her voice be heard. And as she stood on the stage, looking out at the sea of faces, she knew she had made it. She was a star in the making, and nothing could dim her shine.
The next evening, as Sarah emerged from one of the jazz clubs, a group of people were waiting for her. They were fans, eager for a glimpse of the rising star, their hands clutching papers and pens for autographs. Sarah, ever gracious, began to sign autographs, her agent assisting her.
Just as she was signing her name on a fan’s paper, a decrepit figure rushed forward from the crowd. Their appearance was ragged, their gender indiscernible beneath layers of worn clothing. They spat at Sarah, their words venomous. “Go away. We love Lady Mood, not you.” With that, they turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Sarah was taken aback, but her agent quickly ushered her into a waiting taxi. As they drove away, Sarah could still hear the cheers of her fans, a stark contrast to the harsh words of the mysterious figure.
When they arrived at her apartment, they were greeted by an unpleasant sight. Her apartment windows were covered in eggs, the shells shattered, the yolks dripping down the glass. It was a clear message, a warning. But Sarah, undeterred by the threats and the theft, remained steadfast. She was a star in the making, and nothing could dim her shine. She would clean up the mess, just as she had done before, and continue to share her music with the world. Her spirit remained unbroken, her resolve stronger than ever. “I am her to stay.” she uttered.
An ugly thought crossed Sarah’s mind. She looked up at the windows then said to her agent Terri, “You don’t suppose Lady Mood is behind this?!”
Terri sighed heavily. “I am almost certain. She is a witch you know. A real witch and she used her power to get her fame and fortune. She would use it to keep it.” She said grimly.
“Do you think she would get violent?” Sarah asked anxiously.
“The spitter and these eggs are hints of violence. We must protect you. Your concert is tomorrow night and maybe after that things will settle.” Terri replied then ushered Sarah Crimson into her apartment.
Lingering over a glass of wine Lady Mood contemplated what to do next. When the idea came to her mind she an evil grin stretched her bloody red lips. “But dare I go so far?’ she muttered then added, “I must go so far or lose my throne.”
As the night settled in an old woman crept through the shadows between the street lamps and neon signs. She was bent like an old hag but her eyes pierced into the dark shadows of cruelness searching every face, every eye and every heart that had been blackened by greed. Then her gaze fell upon a creature, barely human by sight, but strong and powerful looking, tattoos etched into his arms with a skull embedded on his face. “A moment of your time?” she said in a sweet voice.
The biker looked up but did not see an old hag. He saw a sultry vixen with an inviting smile on blood red lips.
If ever there was heard such an evil laugh etching the misty night of Raintown it was in that moment when two black hearts cried joy in their foulness.
“For you fairest of the night I would tear the heart from….”
4
The Hitman
In the dimly lit corner of a seedy bar, Lady Mood, the reigning queen of jazz, found her pawn. A burly biker named Morpho, notorious for his ruthlessness. His face was hidden behind a skull tattoo, his arms a canvas of inked stories. Lady Mood, using her witchcraft, transformed herself into a sultry vixen. Her blood-red lips curled into a seductive smile as she approached Morpho.
“Care for some company?” she purred, her voice weaving a spell around him. Morpho looked up, his eyes meeting hers. He didn’t see an old hag. He saw a woman of irresistible beauty, her allure pulling him in.
Lady Mood made her proposition, promising Morpho a fortune in return for a sinister task. “I need you to silence Sarah Crimson before her concert tomorrow night,” she said, her voice as cold as ice. Morpho, enticed by the hefty sum, agreed. “Consider it done. She won’t utter a note by sunrise,” he assured her.
That night, Sarah, too excited to sleep, decided to venture out to a nearby all-night coffee shop. Dressed to hide her identity, she stepped out into the night. But as she walked, she felt a pair of eyes on her. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind and dragged into an alleyway.
Her captor, Morpho, pushed her to the ground and pulled out a knife. He was about to cut out her tongue when he saw her face. Recognition dawned on him. This was Sarah Crimson, the beautiful jazz singer who had autographed his helmet just that night.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered, letting her up. He then revealed the truth about Lady Mood’s wicked plan. “But if I let you go, you must disappear and never return. No concert for you. If you do, we will both be murdered in our sleep.”
Sarah, tears streaming down her face, nodded. She kissed Morpho on the cheek and ran away into the night. It was not just her life in danger anymore, and she could never live freely with another’s death on her conscience. As she disappeared into the darkness, she made a silent vow. She would rise again, stronger and brighter, and her music would echo in every corner of the city. But for now, she had to vanish, leaving behind the stage that was once her dream.
The following morning, the city woke up to shocking headlines. “Sarah Crimson Vanishes on Eve of Mega Concert!” screamed the front page of the Daily Chronicle. Her disappearance was as mystifying as it was sudden. The news spread like wildfire, fueling speculation and concern among her fans and the public.
Sarah’s newly released album, “Sarah Crimson: Jazz In Raitown ,” had gone viral, catapulting her to unprecedented fame. The concert was to be the crowning glory of her career, a sold-out event that had fans flocking from all corners of the country. But now, the stage was set, the lights were dim, and the star was missing.
Her agent, Terri, was in a state of panic. She had staked his reputation on Sarah’s success. With the police issuing an all-points bulletin for her return, she decided to take matters into his own hands. She hired the best detective firm in the city, known for their discretion and efficiency.
The detectives began their investigation, combing through Sarah’s personal life, her last known locations, and her interactions. They found no ransom note, no signs of struggle, no leads. It was as if Sarah had vanished into thin air.
Meanwhile, the city held its breath, waiting for news of their beloved singer. Candlelight vigils were held, fans poured their hearts out on social media, and her songs played on every radio station. The mystery of Sarah Crimson’s disappearance had gripped the nation, her absence echoing louder than her music.
As days turned into weeks, the search continued. The detectives left no stone unturned, but Sarah remained elusive. The concert venue stood silent, a haunting reminder of the voice that was lost. The city mourned its star, her melodies lingering in the air, a ghostly serenade to a talent that had vanished too soon.
But somewhere in the shadows, a woman watched the city that was once her stage. Sarah Crimson, alive and in hiding, knew she had to stay away to keep Morpho safe. Her heart ached for the life she had left behind, but she found solace in her music. She vowed to return one day.
Lady Mood put on a good show. She even shed a tear or two but underneath the façade of care she was filled with joy. But only for a moment because it seemed her plot to rid herself of Sarah crimson had back fired. The people, the fans turned their love to the missing Sarah Crimson lost I her moment of glory. The radio waves were filled with songs from Sarah Crimson: Jazz In Raintown and not a word was utter about the Queen of Jazz, Lady Mood.
Hours earlier Morpho had met Lady Mood secretly and delivered his vile package. A still blood soaked tongue. “And Lady kindness, I gave a bonus.”
“Did you murder her?” Lady Mood asked in a sinister coo.
“Nay. But you will never hear from her again. I swear Lady Mood.
Lady Mood paid the fee and kissed the biker on the cheek then cast a spell of forgetfulness into his mind. Where he went there after none can say. He just wandered away with his money and a dream of something long ago.
5
Sarah And The Seven Musicians
In a city far from home, Sarah wandered aimlessly, her heart heavy with the weight of her past. One evening, she stumbled upon a quaint studio nestled in a quiet alley. The studio was a sanctuary of music, with seven instruments and seven beds, each telling a story of its own.
Sarah, drawn by the allure of the place, decided to clean it up. She dusted the instruments, made the beds, and brought a sense of order to the chaos. Exhausted, she fell asleep on a chesterfield, her dreams filled with melodies.
When the occupants returned, they were surprised to find their studio transformed. They found Sarah asleep on the chesterfield and recognized her immediately. They were seven jazz musicians, each a maestro in his own right.
When Sarah awoke she told them her story and immediately all agreed that she should never stop singing but for now she should change her name and make a new life in her new city.
When all was told and planned the musicians introduced themselves.
“ I am Duke the pianist and my fingers are magic.”
“I am Louis master of the trumpet and my lips are divine.”
“My name be Charlie the saxophonist. I can weave stories with my music”.
“Miles here pretty lady. The trombonist and my tunes are enchanting.”
“I’m Sticks, the drummer and I can set any rhythm with perfection.”
“Pauly here, guitarist with a touch of genius.”
“And I, last but least am Pauly the band’s double bassist who carries bottom end with deep resonance.”
“And all together they bowed and said, “And we are The Dwarfinian Jazz Band Of Shakytown.”
With a little curtsy, I am as you seem to know already, Sarah Crimson and I am far from home with no where to go and not a single friend.”
“Correction Sarah Crimson. You have seven friends now and we are in need of a singer and we know you are just the one we need. Why else would the spirits send you under our wing. For now, until your old life changes about again we can work our musical magic here.” Duke said cheerfully.
They took Sarah under their wing, promising to protect her from the dangers that lurked in her past. They saw in her a kindred spirit, a fellow musician who had been wronged. Together, they vowed to help Sarah reclaim her life and her music, one note at a time. And so began the tale of Sarah and the Seven Musicians, a symphony of friendship, courage, and the indomitable spirit of music.
“But what should I be called?” Sarah asked worriedly and people will recognize me sooner or later.”
“Well the solution to that is simple.” Said Miles. We name you Penny, like the lost penny that always comes back.”
“Isn’t that a bad penny?” Sarah said coyly.
“It is and to those some who will hear your name will have their bad penny back some day.” Miles answered with a little dance.
“And I shall dye my hair copper colour and wear glasses and dress like a secretary prim and proper.” Sarah … Penny laughed.
And so, Penny, formerly known as Sarah, began her new life with the Dwarfinian Jazz Band. They played in every jazz club in Shakytown, their music resonating with the soul of the city. Penny’s voice, combined with the band’s harmonious tunes, created a unique sound that quickly gained popularity. Their performances were filled with energy and emotion, captivating audiences night after night. They became a local legend, their fame spreading far and wide.
Meanwhile, in Raintown, the queen was not oblivious to the happenings in Shakytown. She had been keeping a close eye on Sarah, now Penny, ever since she had left. “A clever girl you are but not clever enough.” The queen was threatened by Penny’s talent and feared her return. She hatched a diabolical plan to get rid of Penny once and for all.
The queen sent her spies to Shakytown to keep tabs on Penny and the band. They reported back about the band’s success and Penny’s growing popularity. The queen, consumed by jealousy and fear, decided to act. She planned to sabotage their next big concert, hoping to ruin Penny’s reputation and end her career.
Back in Shakytown, Penny and the band were unaware of the queen’s plans. They continued to play their music, spreading joy and harmony. Penny, with her copper-coloured hair and glasses, had become a beloved figure in Shakytown. She had found a new home, a new family, and a new purpose.
Then one day there was an announcement made by the Musical Society Of Shakytown. “We shall have a Battle of Th Jazz Bands from all over the world.”
Months later ss the day of the festival of The Battle of The Bands approached, Penny and the band was becoming excited and nervous, especially when they heard Lady Mood would be there and that undoubtedly she would use her witch’s magic to win.
Little did they know they were about to face their biggest challenge yet. But they were not alone. They had each other, and they had their music. And as they would soon find out, they also had the love and support of the entire city of Shakytown.
With the stage was set for a showdown, a battle of music and wits, between Penny and the queen the secret of Penny and the Seven Dwarfinian Band was about to take an unexpected turn. Sarah Crimson: Jazz In Raintown would rise out of the shadows od suppression. Or so they believed, not knowing the depth of Lady Mood’s villainy.
6
Tainted Wine
Lady Mood, under the guise of a delivery person, arrived in Shakytown with a bottle of wine. And soon found the home of the Seven musicians. Her spies had learned the truth about Penny.
The bottle was elegantly wrapped, its label bearing the name of a renowned vineyard. It was a gift, she claimed, from an anonymous admirer who wished to congratulate Penny and the band on their success.
Unbeknownst to everyone, the wine was laced with a slow-acting poison, concocted by Lady Mood herself. It was a sinister plan, designed to strike when least expected.
The night of the Battle of The Bands arrived. The atmosphere was electric, the anticipation palpable. As Penny and the band prepared for their performance, they decided to make a toast. It was a tradition, a ritual they performed before every show.
Penny, unaware of the danger lurking in the bottle, uncorked the wine. She poured it into seven glasses, one for each member of the band. Raising her glass, she proposed a toast to their friendship, their music, and the journey they had embarked on together.
As they clinked their glasses together, Penny took a sip of the wine. Unaware of the poison coursing through her veins, a poison concocted just for her and that would harm only her. Lady Mood was clever. Not only would she get rid of Sarah Crimson she would lure the Dwarfinians into her service.
Penny she smiled at her friends, her eyes sparkling with excitement and joy.
Little did anyone know, the countdown had begun. The poison was slow-acting, designed to strike at the most opportune moment.
Hours later as Penny stepped onto the stage, her voice echoing through the hall, the first signs of the poison began to manifest.
She opened her mouth to sing but all that came out was a frogs croak.
As Penny’s voice croaked out, the audience fell silent. The musicians on stage exchanged worried glances. Something was clearly wrong. Penny tried to continue, but her strength was fading. She swayed on her feet, her face pale.
Duke, the pianist, was the first to react. He rushed to Penny’s side just as she collapsed. The music stopped abruptly, replaced by gasps of shock from the audience. The musicians quickly carried Penny off the stage, their faces etched with concern.
Fortunately, a doctor was present among the audience. He was a jazz enthusiast who had come to enjoy the Battle of The Bands. He rushed backstage as soon as he saw Penny collapse.
The doctor examined Penny, his face grave. He quickly realized that she had been poisoned. He administered an antidote, hoping it would counteract the effects of the poison. But Penny was still unconscious, her condition critical.
The musicians were in shock. They couldn’t believe what was happening. Their joyous night had turned into a nightmare. But they knew they had to stay strong for Penny. They had to believe that she would pull through.
Meanwhile, the audience waited anxiously for news and after nearly an hour had passed the MC announced that the battle had to go on. “And next up is Lady Mood, The Jazz Queen Of Raintown.”
With villainous elegance Lady Mood took the stage and began her set.
Back stage the doctor had announced that the poison that ruined Penny’s voice was also a sleeping potion.
“Her name is not Penny. It is Sarah Crimson.” A voice came from the dressing room doorway.”
“Who are you?” The Dwarfinians shouted in unison.
I am or rather was Sarah’s agent before she vanished. I would know her voice anywhere. My name is Mike Mercy.”
Quickly Mike went to Sarah’s side and knelt beside her. Sarah, My love. I have missed you so and looked everywhere across the continent for you. When I heard of the Battle of The Jazz Bands I just knew you would be here. But what I have found brings no joy. What has that witch done to you?”
“She has been poisoned.” Said the doctor.
Mike Mercy knelt there for a long time holding Sarah’s hand until suddenly Duke the piano player said, “Well. Could it be that you are the prince and Sarah is the princess and a kiss is not just a kiss but a kiss that wakes the sleeping from poison.”
Everyone looked at Duke as if he had gone silly. Everyone except Mike who leaned down and kissed Sarah and whispered, “Come back to us Sarah. Come back to me my love.”
And as if fairy tales came true Sarah opened her eyes and with a smile kissed her prince back. “I love you too Mike.”
For a long time there was cheers and welcome backs and hugs and the noise was so loud it interrupted lady Mood’s performance.
She stormed off the stage to the dressing rooms ready to scream her anger but when she saw Sarah awake and well she howled in dismay.
Duke who was the most upset about the poisoning grabbed the poisonous bottle of wine and poured it down the witches throat. It didn’t cause her to fall asleep or turn her voice into a frogs voice but it had a worse effect. From that day on she never uttered another word.
And, as all stories like this must end happily Sarah Crimson and The Dwarfinian Band won the battle of the bands, Sarah’s album Sarah Crimson: Jazz In Raintown hit the charts at number one for weeks and Mike Mercy booked them on a world tour and yes every one did live happily ever after, except Lady Mood who turned into an ugly old witch and couldn’t find her beauty potion anywhere. Some say it was stolen by a frog.