The beginning of a story

I decided to attempt to write a short story about a metal band just for my own and because I have actually had the idea for a few years. I may post parts of it here and there if a decided to keep with it. It might end up playing like a bad heavy metal soap opera. My hope is that it plays out more as a story about living in a small area and being into music and also about the difference between music as an interest and music as a business. Keep in mind this is rough and my descriptions tend to dry as dirt some times. Anyway here is the very opening of they story, the bulk of the story will be taking place about ten years after this part. So let me know what you think and please be honest because I want it to be decent.

"Little Pond"

I have always felt that inspiration isn’t something that you look for, but rather something that finds you. Real inspiration shouldn’t only find you, but it should overcome and possess you. That’s what happened one Saturday morning when I was 10 and we were at the record store. My mom was looking for a John Denver album or something to send to my cousin for her birthday and while she was looking I turned my head to look around and was drawn to this album cover. I am not sure if it was the colors or the picture, but it pulled me to it. I was used to seeing album covers of people just standing there, covers that looked just like photographs in scrapbooks, kind of boring I guess. This album cover wasn’t boring, there was something very vibrant about it. It was Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the holy and grabbed the album and I didn’t just look at it, I studied it. Of course I couldn’t study it for long because mom would have a fit if she saw me looking at it. I knew then that I wanted to hear this album, but my parents weren’t about to buy it for me though. They weren’t too big on rock music. It wasn’t any moral reason, it was more that they thought music was just entertainment and not a very important form of entertainment so they certainly weren’t going to be shelling out their money for some record just because I liked the cover. So I left the store that day without saying anything about the album, but I tucked away the name and the image of the album in my mind for a later date. The cover was like a bait and I was caught because I wanted to know what that album sounded like and somehow I had to find a way to hear it.