Love, Death & an American Guitar.

The morning sunlight glistened off the window and two wild staring eyes lapped up the beauty of the 1967 Fender Telecaster guitar through the large pane of glass. The instrument had been hung in the window of Swan's music shop for several weeks now. Saul had been saving up every spare penny to buy the instrument.

Now, on this warm summer’s day, he was stood waiting for Jim, the owner of Swans to open the shop up. Saul checked his watch, almost 9 am. As the lock on the shop door clicked Jim stood there with his usual bearded grin.

Jim had been a guitarist most of his life and had even had a shot at the big time when he played with Ronnie and the Rollers in 1965, a minor hit in the UK top ten and the band split so he had opened up Swan's music shop.

"Good morning to you Saul, have you come to play the tele again?" asked Jim expecting Saul to reply yes as he had done since the instrument had appeared in Jim's window two weeks earlier.

The origin of the guitar was unknown except it was an original U.S.A built Telecaster and a very sought-after instrument.

Saul just shook his head and handed Jim Eight Hundred pounds in used Twenty Pound notes.

"I want to buy her" he grinned. Jim nodded and said, "she was made for you Saul you always play her so beautifully". He handed the instrument to Saul and asked if there was anything else.

Saul shook his head and cradled the guitar with love. His face in awe at its sheer magnificence he couldn't wait to get the guitar home and plug it into his Marshall Stack amplifier. Placing the instrument lovingly into a shoulder bag he climbed onto his hard tail chopper motorcycle and headed for home.

The engine roaring out his pleasure, wind blew through Saul's hair and trees blurred past him as he rode along the country roads of the Yorkshire moors. Saul's cottage was a small stone-built house. Originally a barn it was now converted to a recording studio, and one-bedroom apartment Overlooking the wild hills and moorland of West Yorkshire, it was an hour’s ride to the nearest town.

Cravings boiled in his blood as he rode past wandering sheep and green hills, so he pulled over for a smoke. Placing his bike on its stand he dismounted, removed his helmet and drew in the clear air.

As though to dissolve the taste he lit up a cigarette and inhaled the smoke, savouring the flavour before exhaling slowly through his nostrils. He removed the guitar from his back and lent it against his bike then glanced across the valley towards the large expanse of water that made up the reservoir.

A large bird of prey hovered high in the blue sky, spotted its prey and took a swift dive for the tall growth of grass with a screech of triumph. Saul's gaze was drawn to a small brook that ran from the moor tops; crystal clear water flowed down limestone rocks. The water up here was pure enough to drink without filtering and Saul was thirsty, so he knelt down and scooped a handful of the cool liquid to his dry lips, a noise alerted him and he turned quickly to see another motorcycle pull up next to his.

Long, slender, leather clad legs dismounted the pillar box red Ducati sports bike. The rider strolled confidently toward the stream however It wasn't until the rider reached Saul that they removed their helmet to reveal a mass of flowing, curly black hair erupting from beneath the helmet and cascading like a dark waterfall down the riders back.

Full, red painted lips smiled sweetly, tantalizing, ice blue eyes studied Saul's rugged appearance as he knelt there in oil stained leathers and denim cut off.

"Yall think I could squeeze in there and get myself a drink?" asked the rider. Her soft husky American voice sending shivers through Saul's stocky exterior and into his very soul.

"Sure" he grinned and beckoned to the woman to help herself to the water. She knelt gracefully, her gaze continuously locked on his even when she raised a slender hand to her lips and drank her eyes drew his in like a cobra hypnotizing its prey.

"What's your name?" she purred.

"Saul, Saul Hudson and yours?" he gave her a grin.

"My name is Empathy Sammie's, but my friends call me Sammy".

She smiled at him sweetly.

Saul stood up, held his hand out to her and helped her up from the side of the flowing beck. "So, what are you doing out on the moors on your own?" Saul queried "Just out testing my new duke, saw your chop and thought I'd pull over and say hi, is that a guitar against your cycle?"

Saul nodded "so you play huh "Sammy gave him a wink and walked over to the bikes. He watched her rear end wavering from side to side as she walked and couldn’t help but smile at her beauty. Sammy picked up the guitar and called out to Saul, "you going to play me a tune huh?"

He laughed, strolled over to her and replied" maybe, but it’s an electric guitar you wouldn't be able to hear it very well without an amplifier" Sammy's eyes lit up "and do you have an amplifier anywhere close by" she ran a finger down Saul's half naked chest and he shivered at her touch.

"Yeah I only live about two miles up there” Saul pointed towards a dirt track leading uphill. "Well what are we waiting for, show me the way" she said with a playful laugh.

The oak door to Saul's house creaked with age. Saul beckoned Sammy to enter and she followed him and his guitar through the doorway and into a large modern looking room. The inside did not reflect the aging exterior of the property. Laminated flooring and glass walls adorned the room, statues of modern art stood in odd places.

"What a fabulous place you have" commented Sammy as Saul led her up a spiral staircase and into his recording studio. A collection of acoustic and electric guitars and a large amplifier stood in one corner of the large studio. A drum kit and piano in another, and a small recording booth for vocals and the mixing decks lined the far wall.

To Sammy's surprise the whole of the outer wall was glass. Just one large pane of clear glass, the view was spectacular she thought as she pressed her soft palms against it and breathed onto the window. Running her finger through the mist she wrote her name and drew a pair of lips.

Saul removed the Fender from its case, switched the amp on and turned the volume up, then plugged the lead into the guitar and tuned up. The tone of the telecaster rang out beautifully, the whole room echoed with the sound of blues as Saul fingered the fret board. His fingers quick and light on the strings

Sammy's eyes glistened as she watched him play. Her hands clenched into fists of rage.

Yet her face remained calm. Saul finished the tune he was playing and stood back in amazement at his own music. Never had he played so beautifully and not hit one duff note.

Sammy smiled at him and beckoned to him to come closer. He placed the instrument on a spare stand and walked up to her. Immediately he knew what she wanted and kissed her soft sensual lips.

Hands tore at clothing. Lips locked in an eternal embrace as they fell to the floor in each other’s arms.

A new day dawned, the birds sang, and the sun shone through the window or Saul's studio. Clothing hung scattered all over the room. Underwear hung from guitar necks, and two bodies lay sleeping. Saul and Sammy slept peacefully, content in the land of dreams......for now.

Saul opened his eyes and glanced at his watch, where had the day gone, he wondered to himself.

It was Three Thirty in the afternoon, he rolled over to kiss Sammy's soft forehead to find he was alone. Only his clothes lay scattered around the room. He stood and gathered up his clothing and got dressed.

There was something out of place, but Saul couldn't put his finger on what it was. Then it clicked, his new guitar was no longer on the stand, it had gone.

Devastated Saul saw red and new straight away that Sammy had taken it. Wood splintered against the wall as Saul crashed an acoustic guitar into it out of rage. His temper overflowing, he ran downstairs and grabbed his bike keys and helmet.

Outside he spotted her tire marks leading along a moor top path. Sammy had gone the wrong way, away from the main road, she was headed deeper onto the moors instead. Saul knew these dangerous tracks well and instead of jumping on his chopper he opened his garage and rode out on a motocross bike. Although not as fast as her Ducati, on these tracks this was a much more sensible ride

Dirt and stones sprayed into the air as he kicked the engine into life and sped off after the guitar thief. She had several hours lead on him and Saul knew that if it had been open road and not rough hilly country, she would have been miles away by now. He rounded a corner and almost lost control of his bike as part of the narrow path gave way.

The drop into the valley was at least A Hundred feet and the path only inches wide. It was miraculous how Sammy had ridden the heavy machine along such a dangerous path. Then it soon became obvious that she hadn't managed to handle the bike.

Several hundred yards ahead of him Saul saw the path dissolved completely. A large gaping twenty-foot hole was in its place. Tire marks led to the edge of the drop and disappeared.

Stalling the engine of his machine he dismounted and walked cautiously to the crevice. He glanced down and saw the remains of a burnt-out motorcycle still smouldering.

"She was such a beautiful machine don't you think?" Saul spun round at the voice behind him, there, cradling the guitar sat Sammy. Her leathers torn, blood trickling down her beautiful face and tears stained her eyes as she hugged the instrument close to her chest.

Saul's face turned red "how dare you steal from me!" he screamed at her not even caring if she was hurt. Sammy hung her head in shame and sobbed as he reeled off his anger at her. When he eventually calmed, he took out a cigarette and offered one to Sammy.

"You look like you need one" he snarled and lit one up for himself. Sammy declined, she lifted her head "I'm sorry it's just that this guitar means so much to me, I had to find it again, and when I heard that you had bought it..." she sobbed.

Saul looked at her confused "what do you mean you had to find it?" Sammy looked into his dark eyes and spoke softly.

"This guitar belonged to my father and was said to have been tuned by the devil himself." She breathed deeply then continued “my father was a big star in America in the Sixties you see; he used this guitar on stage with Jimi at Woodstock."

Saul sat on the hard ground and hung his legs over the ravine his mind finding it hard to take in all that she was telling him. “Legend has it, my father sold his soul to the devil for fame and fortune, when my father passed away the devil is said to have placed my father’s soul in this guitar to cry the blues for eternity".

Saul glanced down into the valley at the smouldering remains of Sammy's bike. His eye caught something nearby, something black and leather, and wearing a helmet, it was a body; he stumbled backwards as he stood and turned on his heels to face Sammy.

She was gone, all that remained was the guitar lent against a fence post. Saul was in shock but lent down to pick up the instrument, as he reached for the guitar, he saw a trail of blood. Letters scrawled into the wooden post in deep red, they read "forgive me; please release my father’s soul".