NOVEL NEXT 49: Produced By Peydran
RYST
Irony— It Happens
A strumming sitar blared out of the speaker of the pad hovering in front of me. On the video screen, Peydran stood motionless, looking at the floor, wearing only 3/4 length black tights— the white background behind him a contrast to his brown skin.
A drumbeat started, and his hips bounced. Then his shoulders. Electronica blared alive, and he moved. He danced like he was flowing water.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
It wasn't a man and a song; it was one flow. Shirtless, brown skin glowing, metal arm gleaming, and shoulder length brown hair in a bun at his neck. He flowed like he was the music.
The song came to a close, and with his metal hand, he took something from the pocket on his tights and held it up. A tiny, black bag. He grinned at the camera.
In the next video, electronica blared from the speaker. A solid white animated shirtless Peydran wearing pale grey tights stood in front of a black wall. He had no facial expressions. Completely flat affect. Staring at the camera. And next to his head, he held up a white bag. It was only 5 seconds long and was titled, "The Boring Blacker."