Hello, all. Alas, I am still here. Unfortunately I've not been writing fics very often anymore, but original stories. These of course, I do not wish to post online. However, last night it was requested that I write the following fic, simply to see if I could pull it off. :)

I'm rather proud of it. While it may not be my greatest work, it is also definately not my worst. Anyway, this is my first attempt at a Guitar hero fic. I do realize that it is very short, but I strongly believe that it would've lost it's worth, had it been any longer. I don't own guitar hero, although I am a fan :3.

Guitar Goddess

A silver buckle grips slick leather as it is secured on a slender wrist, already lined in rough fishnet sleeves. Black nail polish accents a studded top and the shine of leather pants. Heavy boots thud on the floor as she heads to the mirror one last time. She can't help but smile as she observes her work; her thin frame adorned in black whilst her hair boasts a bright blue as it stands in a tall Mohawk.

She leaves her place before the mirror and heads to the adjacent corner of the room, where the bringer of her success rests. Her blue eyes lock onto the guitar with undeniable confidence. Steel strings return her stare. Finally, she reaches out and grabs the rosewood neck before sliding the thick leather strap over her shoulder.

More thudding breaks the silence as she leaves the dressing room, away from the lights and the hardwood floor. Her heart races as she gets closer, yet she remains as calm as she's ever been. Already she can hear the cheers of the audience outside. She can almost see the sea of people, every one of which came for her.

The sounds of her boots are no longer heard as she walks on stage; a new harshness of light shines to reveal the masses whose cheers had long since began to drown out most sound. Her heart flutters and she smiles again as she looks in awe at her surroundings.

She plugs in the guitar and turns up the volume before removing her lucky sapphire pick from her leather pocket. She looks behind her briefly and meets the eyes of the drummer, he too, is lost in this sea of wonder. She looks into the crowd and he begins to play. She can feel it throughout her body; the magnificent strength of the drumming just behind her.

She closes her eyes as she readies herself, her mind being wiped clean. She draws a shallow breath and holds it as the bass bellows its presence. She exhales as she opens her eyes to find the crowd still standing there. And then she plays. Immediately the guitar becomes a doorway of emotion and her soul is released with the sound of a screaming guitar. It ends too soon.

She sets the guitar down after the song is successfully completed and leaves the small room. As she walks through the house in bare feet, she passes the mirror once more. Despite the tank top and cargo pants she wears, she can't help but see the leather clad guitar goddess looking back at her. To identities, one body. Forty-one songs down, one to go.