|
I suppose it's a good week to jump in
|
#
¿
Oct 28, 2020 04:37
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 02:57 |
|
|
Quotes offered: I thought on a lie and a culty voice was carried with tabally. I flipped myself uncouting eyes, picked up my hat, but never found a liberal page of heart. My gold pressed his perfect friend. "Oh right did worry. Not a world’s that it further rob fulls this twenty one thing. More buy, pleasant money. Six control of it, maybe we can move them.” I am a moment, and a very spectacle. "I was," I said, “Normal. Do you want me all-hate-” Quotes used: I thought on a lie and a culty voice was carried with tabally. I am a moment, and a very spectacle. "I was," I said, “Normal. Do you want me all-hate-” Musical Theater 857 words My friends think I am like my mother, but if that means I am even half as loving and kind and funny as she was, then I don’t see how this could be a bad thing at all. She was a very talented singer and actress, and she had fans everywhere we lived. I used to love listening to her practice songs before a show. We moved a lot when I was a kid. She told me that a bad man from a cult was chasing us, and we had to move so that he couldn’t kidnap me. I didn’t mind. I loved getting to know each place. You see, each city and town has unique sounds associated with them, and when you listen closely enough, you can hear the music. Some places have honking cars and screeching tires that flow into the wind blowing past trees. In others, the sounds of a nearby river form the bass line for all the other notes. Moving often meant that I would hear more and more of these soundtracks. I imagined having an album with them all - Emma’s City Songs. I haven’t moved in a while. It’s been harder to do ever since my mother died in a freak car accident on the side of a mountain. She was trying to escape the cult when her car slammed into a boulder. The investigators called it reckless driving and closed it without making any arrests. When they closed the case, I couldn't move for a week, I felt so lost in the world. After that, the songs got more and more coherent, with real melodies and riffs and sometimes it even sounds like real instruments. The city I live in now is very big and it sings me multiple songs a day now. There’s so much to hear here that I don’t feel like I need to leave yet. — Today, I’m meeting up with my closest friend Josephine for coffee. She says she has something very important to tell me. We meet at the coffee shop in the plaza with the beautiful fountain that tourists like to take photos in front of. I see Josephine sitting on a bench with two drinks, and I wave at her. Suddenly, I hear it. The note that defines this city. It is clear and high, and I know what I must do next. It’s a musical number, after all. I leap into the air, splashing into the fountain with aplomb. Here is where the song really starts. I can’t sing, so I imagine someone will dub over this. When I kick the water, the pigeons in the background fly off to accent my movement. When I get up to leave the fountain, I hear the bridge, and when I land on the sidewalk, the chorus begins. I start to dance, and the passers-by join in, matching my steps. The next verse starts to play, and this time, the main ‘singer’ is the hot dog vendor man, who is nodding his head in time to the beat in my head. I shoot him a wink, and my chorus starts again. I twirl around a light post, the cars are honking in time, and people are throwing their hats into the air. Everyone stares at me. I am a moment, and a very spectacle. I twirl on pointe, which is very hard in these sneakers. I land for my ‘ta-dah!’ moment, my feet placed wide and my arms raised triumphantly towards the sky. I hear the swell of the music as it reaches that coda. The cymbals clash and the song is over, and everyone goes back to their boring lives. Beaming, I walk back to Josephine with the air of a queen. She won’t look at me, and she is gripping her water bottle so tightly I think it might burst. She says, in a quiet voice, “Why can’t you be normal?” "I was," I say, “Normal. Do you want me — all-hate-” She cuts me off. “We’re not haters. We’re concerned for you. Please, just come with me to the doctor’s office. Just a consultation.” This hurt. Josephine is a hater. But narratively, this makes sense. She was my best friend, so her arc would probably involve doubting me before she realizes her mistake and finally we are reunited in the tearful finale. The cult people got to her, so her story will be all about breaking free. I must free her from the cult. “I can’t believe they got you, too. My best friend.” The music from the city grows louder in my head. This is new - now, it whispers something to me. Lyrics? I can only hear snatches of what it says but it sounds like, at least I thought, ‘…on a lie and a culty voice was carried with tabally…’. “Emma, please…!” Josephine pleaded with me. I walk away from her. There is work to do. All I can think about is how the music I hear will help me save her from this terrible cult. They killed my mother and there’s no way I’ll let them kill my friend.
|
|
#
¿
Nov 2, 2020 05:55
|
|