Jukebox Machines

is this a good beginning 2 a novel?
Blurring of the lines A man plays his guitar in a dusty diner, could be Mexico, Texas or anywhere in the Deep South of the dear old USA. Rock spews forth from a jukebox at the back, all Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley and all those other rockers no one remembers but is “Darn toot’n” all the same. He looks over, sees some guy roll in, all black leather, greased hair and no class but ignores them, he is a forgotten relic in his western, shirt, jeans and hat a walking oxymoron as it clashes with his Native American features he doesn’t notice he just plays. He plays a song from long ago or from the distant future, a song of weddings and funerals, of the good lord shining down and Lucifer blowing his big “ol” cloud of smoke down below. It is a song of balance, of freedom, of fresh starts and new beginnings, it is peace’s song. * * * In a hospital down the way of New York Jukebox Cookie Cutter a woman is giving birth, she pants as the baby continues it’s slow and painful journey into the world. Through the pain she hears a machine scream its tinny disapproval at the state of her vitals, all around are doctors reassuring, checking, assisting, but despite all their best efforts she still can feel herself slipping like a toddler lifting a too heavy load, no real grip just floating there ,waiting ,falling. As she falls she remembers the look on her fiancées face as she told him about the pregnancy “all lit up like a kid on Christmas morning” as her Daddy would say, she remembers picking colors, birthing classes and choosing names. She remembers her fiancée getting his conscription letter, him kitting up and marching off in a large parade.She can still recall the hours spent writing letters of love, hope and pride, of preparing packages of cookies, clothes and locks of hair, of replies sent on scraps of paper. A shiver overtakes her as the recalls the day when two men dark of dress and eye appear on her door step, well mannered and groomed with the look one can only get when they are about to impart terrible news. They entered the house like men waking on hallowed ground, fearful to touch, to stir as if his spirit still lingered within. The taste of the sweet tea she had prepared dances on her tongue as the news rushed back into her thoughts,”It was a surprise attack over a known combat zone… Every attempt was made to revive him… Serious head wounds… Died en route to hospital… If there is any thing we can do… We’re sorry for you loss ma’am. She remembers this and then nothing * * *As the man continued to play he began to sing, the lyrics melding with the song. …Can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride, but something touched me deep inside. The day the music died.* * *She awoke to find herself in noting
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Jukebox Cookie Cutter