The Faded Star

"Today is a tragic day in the Kentish music scene as fans of the legendary Benson 10 mourned the death of it's famous frontman and lead guitarist, Dan "The Man" Flash. He was found with his own oesophagus wrapped around his neck, impaled on his own guitar and propped up, tripod-like outside local record store "Vinyl Fantasy".

Dan Flash first broke into the music biz in 1979, with a band called White Eyed Gimmick Trip. They failed spectacularly and although his bandmates mysteriously dissapeared, Flash bounced back with The Turkey Mambo Mamas. Again, the band flopped and it's members dissapearing into obscurity. Daniel Flash, however, was not a man to accept defeat easily and, with the help of his father Sissy Flash, owner of Dirty Bernard Records (now bankrupt), he formed a new rock act with an ailing cabaret outfit known as Hell Twaddle. The seminal Benson 10 was born, and with it, a rock legend.

With influence from Benson keyboardist Smitty Blastoff, the band honed a unique synthetic rock style which was applauded as "f*cking crap" by NME. There was no denying, however, that the South Eastern music scene would never have been the same were it not for those 4 men, the most famous quartet to have ever come out of Beckenham. They lasted for the entirety of the 1980's, their public performances sometimes taking a backseat to their private indescretions. They finally split in July 1990, with their last album "I Bloody Hate You" failing miserably. Dan moved to Viewville soon after to continue running Dirty Bernard Records after the passing of his father. Within three months it went bankrupt and he retired fully to Willoughby in 1997.

The passing of Dan Flash leaves Jed Topps as the only known surviving member of the quartet. Blastoff died due to an overdose and Northern drummer Diggsie mysteriously dissapeared one night. We spoke to Jed about his thoughts on this event;

"I never done it. I might've 'ated the bastard, but I never done it. It was that... y'know, that thing. Look, Benson 10 might've cost me my fingers, but I'm not a murderer. The past's behind me. I now run a successful chain of pornography stores in Soho, I have no reason to go digging up the past. I despised Dan Flash, but I didn't hold a grudge. The c*nt".

Once again, the sadistic yet skilled nature of this attack has been attributed by The Willoughby Ripper. Police are looking to question the owner of "Vinyl Fantasy", the record store outside which Flash was found by Mr. Anish Dhruvi, owner of "Dhruvi News". Dan was said to be very reclusive in his latter days, and was only ever seen heading to and from the record shop. Furthermore, the store has been closed and the owner missing since the day before the body was discovered."

***

Perhaps it will soothe your melancholy to know that he died crying like a child. Right up to the very end, he wept as a man who knew death was all that would come at the end of a tunnel of suffering. He was a strong man, this Dan character. He was an old man, but he put up a fight, or at least tried. I do like it when they try and fight back, it makes it all the sweeter when death claims them. Seeing everything that made them a person drain from their faces as one by one, vital functions fail them. I feel I've earned the joy of watching an animated, feeling human being slowly turn into an obsolete lump of meat. I am a thief of humanity itself, James, stealing people's very being just to use for my own personal satisfaction.

Getting into that man's house was all too easy. A simple smack to the lock with my hammer and the back door merely swayed open. I decided to give myself a little tour of the house while the man of the house was away. What a pathetic residence. Memorabilia of how own worthless career decorated every wall, ever surface, of the place. That a man wouldn't want to hide the fact he dedicated his life to a disaster is justification enough of ending such a meaningless existance. This entire house was one man's tribute to one man's failed ambition.

It was mounted to the wall in the main room. Dan Flash's prized guitar. Custom made in Germany, 1984, if my sources are correct. A beautiful model. If I were a musical man, it would be a possession to be proud off. Very angular, very stylised. I took it off the wall and headed upstairs calmly as I heard the lock go in the front door. It was only a matter of seconds before it happened. A few footsteps into the main room before he shouted "where the fuck is my guitar?"

Presumably, he ran up the stairs in the vain hope that the thief might still be up there, robbing him of more sentimental trash. Oh, he was up there, but he had a different purpose in mind. Daniel's tear blurred eyes didn't even notice me at first as he tore up the steps, but at the last second he looked up, staring into the face of death incarnate. A sharp smack from his guitar sent the fool rolling down the stairs to the corridor below, myself already pacing down to follow him. The second his descent stopped I was upon him. He didn't have time to think before I grabbed him by the neck and flung him into the main room. Dan went careering into the wall, crashing into a mirror and falling flat on the bare white floor as shattered glass rained down on him. He coughed and spluttered as he tried to get up, slicing his hands in the glass as he did so. Eventually he got to his knees and turned to face me, framed as I was in the doorway, guitar clasped in my gloved hand. At once recognition shone in his face. After all, he'd lived in Willoughby a while now, everybody who does hears the story. The man in the gas mask. The man with the boot that clicks when he walks.

Occasionally I'll wear a boot with drawing pins arranged on the sole, so that when I walk on a solid surface, a sharp, light click is heard. Why? Fear. It blinds the soul. The Willoughby Ripper has become such an entity, that sometimes, mere fear of him is enough to drive people insane. The clicking boot was reported by someone who later died in hospital. It's good to leave one or two victims alive, it helps in spreading the good word about my work. She said everytime her attacker walked, his right boot clicked on the floor. It was that clicking, down the hospital corridor, that sent her into a blind state of panic, so hard were her screams, and so frantic did she try and escape, that her internal bleeding started again. Dead before I even reached the door.

Dan was tossed through the air again like a child's plaything, sliding over his dining table, sending his records and other assorted trash all over the place before landing on the floor once again with a thud. I hoisted him back up but he was a proud man, he didn't take kindly to such manhandling and decided to fight back. He landed a punch to the side of my head and I staggered back, shaken by the audacity more than anything, but credit where it is due, he could land a hard punch when he wanted. He didn't stick around to enjoy it though, as he bolted into the kitchen. I gave chase as dashed through the open door into the back garden. I chuckled to myself as I watched him struggle to open the garden gate. Would I leave an escape route unchained? Haha. I could take my time as he desperately pulled at the padlock, before trying to climb over the barred gate that walled him in. I bet he was regretting spiked metal fencing now.

However, I decided to really make him regret it, as I grabbed his right hand, wrenching it away from his frantic escape and dragged him to the spikes, before driving his appendage through one of the points. Not being particularly sharp, of course, the spike had some difficulty piercing all the way through Dan's hand. In fact, it took several hard attempted before it shot through, splintering bone and tearing flesh. The joints in his hand jutted out, accompanied by the screaming of it's owner.

I decided I better bring him back in, so I ripped his arm sideways, tearing the remains of the hand apart while I did so. He was feeling faint already after such things, but he wasn't ready to die yet. After a good while beating him black and blue throughout the house, I decided to put his guitar to use once more. It would've been impossible to drive the guitar through his body on it's own, which is why I had to pin him to the ground and gouge out a section of flesh in his belly with a combat knife. I drove the blade into a select place- to make sure I'd miss vital organs- before twisted it and digging with it, just to grind up the meat and reduce solid resistance, allowing the end of the guitar to get a good foothold and push it's way in. It was good that the guitar was not so sharp though. Such a sudden, driving agony would lead to him dying quickly of shock, far too quick to enjoy it.

I left him bleeding in the main room, too weak to resist by now, and helping myself to some vegetable oil, which I smeared generously on the guitar. It's an old trick used by Vlad Tepes, just to ease the ingress into him. I picked up my victim and dragged him to a window, so that I could have a solid surface supporting him, allowing me to lift him by the neck with one arm. I also needed something that would allow me to drive the instrument all the way through. So it was that I rammed the implement through his body, smashing it through the glass at the other end. Oh Dan may have been half-dazed at this point, but that sure woke him up.

I dropped him to the floor and he fell forward, propped up by his own guitar. He screamed with the power of a man in music. The volume was stupendous. In fact, I did remark to him as he was consumed with agony that it was the best music he'd made in his entire career. But I'd had enough of his voice. Twenty years of singing garbage was more than enough for any man. I decided to rip his very throat out, stabbing into the side of his neck, that I might poke my fingers in and claw it out. His screamed turned to pained gurgles and the blood poured out of his mouth like a carbonated drink being poured into a glass too fast and fizzing over the rim. Of course, he was dead long before I tore out his throat, but I am nothing if not a perfectionist.

I left it in a public place where he might be discovered straight away. I wanted you to find out about this as soon as possible, James. I know how you like the latest news on your favourite musicians. Wait until you give the fanclub that massive scoop, eh?

MORE...

Oh. NOZ. The Ripper killed DanMan! Oh, wait. No you didn't.
Great story filled with all the gory details. How I wish I could have heard his "last song".
Thanks for sharing.

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