The Subcultures: Punk - Riff's Story
Author's note: itโs my first time posting a story here so I hope you enjoy it and comment if you want. I love writing alot but sorry if my story looks very small Itโs because I'm a writer starter so I'm new and need to keep moving on writing. Itโs a oneshot because I'm still not ready for write something long with chapters.
Summary: Wilbur discovers the punk rock movement who changes his life forever.
In his childhood, Wilbur was a lonely and rebellious boy. With brown eyes, messy dark hair, and a face marked by a constant troubled expression, he lived with his parents and his older brother in Bristol, England. Wilbur was always getting into trouble at school and picking fights with his classmates. His parents tried everything to straighten him out, but nothing ever stopped him. Wilbur was deeply closer to his older brother, Willem. They both shared a defiant attitude, but one night, that brotherhood was shattered forever.
Wilbur saw his brother being killed by the police and falling from a bridge, leaving no trace behind. The scream was loud, the crying was deep. They said Willem was a criminal, that he had done terrible things. Nonsense to Wilbur. He could not lose someone so deeply loved.His parents also suffered, and his uncle Mark, who was the mayor of Bristol at the time, did nothing. Wilbur had hoped for help from him, but there was none.
That was when youthful rebellion gave way to a fierce critical spirit. From then on, Wilburโs arch-enemy became authority, the system, and everything he saw as corrupt.
A few years later, at eighteen, Wilbur began living alone in London, in a small, secular apartment in the city. He worked as a clothing salesman at a thrift shop in the Brixton neighborhood. Wilbur spent his workdays bored, surrounded by the same types of people, the same habits, clothes that were plain and flavorless.
โWhat a dog's dinner of a jobโ he muttered every time he finished work.
One day after work, Wilbur arrived home and saw a large box placed right in front of his door. Curious, he picked it up and went inside. When he opened it, there was a vinyl record with the name โRamonesโ written on it, a fanzine, and an old leather jacket.
Wilbur was surprised. He searched the entire box for a letter or anything similar, but there was nothing. He picked up the fanzine first and examined it.
The title read: โTHE PUNK MOVEMENT AND WHY IT MATTERS TO THOSE WHO HATE SOCIETY.โ Wilbur liked it immediately. The black-and-white images showed young people wearing bold clothes like leather jackets, mohawks, and radical accessories. The entire visual style was made of collage and letters cut from newspapers.
โThe punk movement is a new subculture of this decade, rooted in the working class. Many early punks recognized the social system itself as the source of societyโs problems, which led them to embrace anti-authoritarianism, anarchism, and a complete rejection of the dominant capitalist philosophy of the time.โ
Wilbur paused, impressed by this so-called punk movement. He kept reading. The fanzine talked about their ideologies, anarchism, opposition to the system, and the music, including bands like Ramones, Sex Pistols, and The Clash. Wilbur read the entire fanzine as if he were studying an art subject.
โThatโs it,โ he thought. โThatโs what Iโve been looking for all this time.โ
He looked at the Ramones vinyl and placed it on his turntable. The music started playing. A raw sound, fundamentally anti-commercial, with aggressive lyrics that felt like a slap in the face to pop music.
Wilbur danced to the sound while grabbing the leather jacket and said, in his raspiest voice, โWell, itโs time to change my life.โ
A few days later, Wilbur was no longer Wilbur. His name is now Riff. His messy hair had become a red-dyed mohawk. He traded polo shirts and soft jeans for leather jackets, band shirts, full of patches, all handmade in DIY. His neighbors were shocked when they saw him, and Riff could barely wait to see his parentsโ reaction.
On a cold night, Riff went to a pub in Camden where the Sex Pistols will play. As soon as he arrived, he felt at home. There were many young people his age with shocking looks, chatting and drinking before the show began. The pub was nothing like the others Riff used to visit.
He walked up to the bar and ordered a drink when four guys talking nearby caught his attention. They looked at him with a welcoming presence.
โOi, are ya new here?โ asked the first guy.
โYeah, first time seeing the Pistolsโ Riff replied proudly.
โWhatโs your name, lad?โ asked the second.
โRiff. Used to be Wilbur, but now itโs Riff.โ
โNice to meet ya, Riff,โ said the first. โIโm Ace. These are Spit, Ash, and Jett.โ
They talked a lot before the show, sharing stories about their lives and how they discovered the movement. Riff laughed at Jettโs stories. Ace talked about coming from a hippie family and rebelling against it. Spit showed his tattoos and their meanings. Ash recommended new punk bands that are appearing these days.
The stage lights came on and the band started playing. For Riff, hearing a band live was far better than listening to a record. He and his new friends had an incredible time, enjoying the anarchic and aggressive sound of the Pistols. It was Riffโs first concert, and that night filled him with ideas for his new life as a punk.
A few days later, an amazing idea formed in Riffโs mind: to start a punk rock band with his friends. He told them, and they accepted enthusiastically. Ace chose not to be part of the band but immediately agreed to follow and support them at all times.
They spent days practicing their instruments and figuring out the bandโs name.
Riff and the Rebelious? Too clichรฉ.
The Anarchist Heroes? Nah.
Until Ace arrived one day and said he had dreamed of a bold and special name.
โFreak Ladsโ Ace said hopefully.
โFreak Lads?โ Riff asked, smiling. โAce, you never disappoint!โ
And so Freak Lads was born. Riff as the vocalist, Jett on guitar, Ash on bass, and Spit on drums. Their first show was at a very underground pub, packed with curious and excited young people. They stepped onto the stage wearing wild rebelious outfits. Riff grabbed the microphone and shouted:
โLETโS CRUSH THE SYSTEM WITH OUR SOUND!โ
The raw sound exploded through the pub. The crowd screamed and jumped. Riff sang with all his strength and energy, and his bandmates were no background figures. They were true heroes alongside him that night. Riff never forgot that show because the next morning he received a call from Ace saying that an independent, non-mainstream and alternative studio wanted to sign them. Riff and the band accepted.
One year later, Freak Lads released their first album, โProblems? Get a Jacket!โ The cover is dark, filled with graffiti and newspaper-cut lettering. The entire London punk community discovered the band and praised them highly, and Freak Lads began playing in venues beyond Camden.
On a rainy night in Soho, after a show at a club, Riff was taking photos and talking with fans, kind and friendly people. He noticed how those punks were far more pleasant to be around than so-called โnormalโ people. Ace arrived with a girl.
โHey, Riff, this is Birdie, the artist who designed our album cover,โ Ace said. โBirdie, this is Riff, the bandโs vocalist.โ
Riff looked at Birdie with such enchantment that he blushed and felt his heart race.
โUh, nice to meet ya, Birdie,โ Riff said, admiring her. โYou did a beautiful job on our album cover.โ
โThank you,โ Birdie replied, her voice calm and distinctive. โFreak Lads is already my favorite band. I canโt wait to see whatโs coming next.โ
Ace noticed the way Riff looked at Birdie. When she went to get drinks, Ace laughed.
โI know that look, Riff. Youโre not trying to flirt with the artist, are ya?โ
โWhat? No. I donโt care about loveโฆ I think.โ
โLove is never fleeting, Riff. Itโs about moving forward and finding your heartโs flame.โ
That phrase stayed with Riff. He began spending more time with Birdie. They discovered they shared similar tastes and personalities, though they were different. Riff is rough and curious; Birdie is serene and clever. Riff was constantly impressed by her ideas and thoughts. At night, he thought about Birdie before sleeping. He even dreamed of her and felt as if he were in paradise.
One quiet morning, Riff and Birdie walked together through the streets of Westminster. The sky was gray and overcast, winter in the air. They stopped near a bridge with a view of Big Ben. Riff disliked that place, too luxurious for him, but he knew Birdie loved it.
โBirdieโฆโ Riff whispered.
โYou knowโฆ youโre my best friend,โ he struggled for words. โBut since we met, I feel something strong. I know what it is. Itโs love.โ
He pulled a padlock necklace from his pocket, engraved with the initials โR + B.โ It shimmered mysteriously. The necklace had belonged to his brother, and after losing him, Riff had kept it.
โWill you accept it?โ he asked softly.
โYes!โ Birdie exclaimed.
Riff placed the necklace around her neck, seeing her shine with something he had long wished to give someone he would protect no matter what. He kissed her, a gentle kiss filled with affection.
Weeks passed. Riff and Birdie moved in together in Camden, into a small but cozy flat. They adopted two cats, Sid and Joe, one black with emerald green eyes and one tuxedo cat with blue eyes. Friends often visited. The first night Riff slept beside Birdie, holding her close, he felt peace, though something seemed missing. He ignored it and fell asleep, dreaming.
He ran through a London alley, hearing a familiar voice. His brotherโs voice saying, โIโm alive, Riff.โ He stopped before a hooded figure and woke suddenly when the telephone rang.
โRiff, itโs Mark. Your uncle. Meet me at eight tonight near your record label. We need to talk.โ
Riff agreed and that night, without telling Birdie, went to meet his uncle. The atmosphere was colder than before. His uncle stood there with his arms crossed, an angry expression on his face.
โOi, old manโ Riff said, curious but with a wary tone toward his uncle.
โRiff, my nephew, itโs good to see you.โ
โI donโt have time for this. Get straight to the point. I already told you I want ya far away from me.โ
โRiff, youโve been a disappointment since childhood. For years Iโve wanted to know about your brotherโs death.โ
โYes. Tell me the real reason your brother was killed by the police!โ
Riff felt his heart start beating faster than expected.
โUhโฆ because he was a criminal.โ
โNo! Thatโs a lie! Thereโs another reason he was killed! Tell the truth or elseโฆโ
Mark pulled out a very unusual remote control, and Riff saw a light inside the record labelโs window.
โOr I blow up the entire label, your albums, everythingโฆโ
โRiff, no!โ a voice shouted.
It was Ace, entering the scene, looking even more nervous than Riff.
โIโll tell the whole truth!โ
After Ace, his parents, friends, and Birdie appeared. Riff was more confused than ever.
โAce, whatโs going on?โ
โRiffโฆ Iโm not the Ace you think you know. Youโve known me for a long time.โ
โWhat are you talking about?โ
โIโm Willem. Your brother.โ
Riffโs heart almost stopped when he heard that. He looked at Aceโs face more closely than ever before and saw it in his eyes. That was his brother, older and preserved. Thatโs why Ace had always seemed familiar to him.
โBrotherโฆโ Riff whispered, tears beginning to fall.
โIโm going to tell ya everything that happened. Please, believe me.โ
Riff hugged Ace without saying a word, sobbing and refusing to let go of his brother.
โWillemโฆ how? How did you survive?โ
After the embrace, Willem, or Ace, sighed and began to tell his story.
โThat night, I was walking with a backpack containing certain information about a criminal because I was going to report him to the police. But Mark caught me and yelled at me, saying I should never have done that. I managed to escape from him, but the police found me and one of them shot me. I survived because when I fell into the lake, a family of hippies found me while camping near the lake. They taked care of me and I run away with them. Years later, I tried to find you, Riff. I found out you were in London through your old friend Tobey. So I traveled to London and found you in Brixton, selling clothes at the thrift shop. I'm already a punk and had changed my appearance. I knew how much you loved a mystery and that youโd connect with the movement, so I sent you that box to try to find me.โ
Silence fell. Ace clenched his fists, staring at his uncle with fury.
โIt was Mark, Riff. He was the criminal. When I found out you were going to meet him, I already had all the evidence and told everyone.โ
โBastard!โ Riff shouted as he rushed forward to hit Mark, but Ace stopped him.
โNo, Riff. I know we hate authority, but itโs better to leave this to the police.โ
โFineโฆโ Riff spat in Markโs face. โThatโs for you, you filthy bastard.โ
The police took Mark away, and he was arrested. Riff and Ace hugged each other again, eyes filled with tears but smiling.
โWelcome back, brother,โ Riff said.
And so, Riff continued with his band, with Ace now acting as their manager. Riff married Birdie, and they had twins, John and Viviene. Today, they all live happily, continuing their lives as punks.
