He’d known its sound for years, been comforted through nightmares and lulled to sleep by its noise, but never once had he dared use it himself.
It was taller than him, but father cradled it easily in his massive hands, and it didn’t look that heavy. He looked around the room, but the three were crying and mother and father were trying to make them stop.
No one was there.
No one would know.
He reached out and pressed his little hand tentatively against the smooth wood of its body, walked his tiny fingers up its neck.
Then, with his child-heart pounding in his chest, he did the deed, reached out and plucked one of the shiny steel strings.
The sound of A-440 would live with him forever.
(130 words)
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Get You A Sprite
“Congratulations on going platinum!” The forty-something man clapped Dan on the shoulder and shoved a flute of champagne at him.
Dan stared at the bubbling golden liquid for a long time, then peered at the crowded reception room. Lily, their publicist, had separated the four of them as soon as they’d entered, and Dan couldn’t see any of his brothers or really anyone he knew. He’d have liked to have another chance to chat with the producer, but the sea of adults had swallowed everyone up.
He stared at the champagne some more. On every side, people were holding half-empty flutes of champagne, talking and laughing and obviously enjoying themselves. They didn’t seem drunk. Dan shrugged and took a sip.
And very nearly died. Carbonation shot up his nose, and fire raced down his throat. He coughed and spluttered. It tasted like Nyquil and sugar and he couldn’t speak.
Someone relieved him of the flute of champagne and patted him on the back, hard.
Dan squeaked and blinked unexpected tears away.
“You all right, kid?”
Dan opened his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Sir.”
“First time, huh?” The man standing over him grinned, amused.
Dan coughed and spluttered a little more. “Yes, sir.”
“No need to call me sir, kid.” The man offered a hand. “My name’s Nate Ulrich. I hear you boys play your own instruments.”
“We do.”
The man grinned. “Great. Let’s talk about your next album. I’ll get you a Sprite.”
(244 words)
Dan stared at the bubbling golden liquid for a long time, then peered at the crowded reception room. Lily, their publicist, had separated the four of them as soon as they’d entered, and Dan couldn’t see any of his brothers or really anyone he knew. He’d have liked to have another chance to chat with the producer, but the sea of adults had swallowed everyone up.
He stared at the champagne some more. On every side, people were holding half-empty flutes of champagne, talking and laughing and obviously enjoying themselves. They didn’t seem drunk. Dan shrugged and took a sip.
And very nearly died. Carbonation shot up his nose, and fire raced down his throat. He coughed and spluttered. It tasted like Nyquil and sugar and he couldn’t speak.
Someone relieved him of the flute of champagne and patted him on the back, hard.
Dan squeaked and blinked unexpected tears away.
“You all right, kid?”
Dan opened his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Sir.”
“First time, huh?” The man standing over him grinned, amused.
Dan coughed and spluttered a little more. “Yes, sir.”
“No need to call me sir, kid.” The man offered a hand. “My name’s Nate Ulrich. I hear you boys play your own instruments.”
“We do.”
The man grinned. “Great. Let’s talk about your next album. I’ll get you a Sprite.”
(244 words)
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Big Family Dinner
“Catch!” Scott tossed the baseball.
Bob caught it easily with one hand. “No ball in the house - you know the rules.” He kicked off his sneakers and nudged them against the wall between Clay and Dan’s shoes, padded toward the kitchen.
“Hey Danny, did you set the table?” he called in the general direction of the stairs.
Shelley said, “Dinner’s all ready as soon as you’ve washed your hands.”
Bob came up short. Scott crashed into his back.
Shelley stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She wore an apron and held a wooden spoon.
Bob blinked. “I didn’t realize you and Dad would be back from your honeymoon so soon.” He scratched his head nervously. “We’d have, uh, cleaned up a little bit if we’d known --”
“It’s fine,” Shelley said. “I have to do my part in the household now too, right?” Her smile was a touch too bright. “Your dad told me you love homemade pizza.”
Scott opened his mouth to ask if she’d used their mother’s recipe, and Bob dug an elbow into his ribs.
“Yeah. We do. Uh...need one of us to set the table? Dad has regular chores for us when we’re off the road,” Bob said.
Again with the too-bright smile. “Nope. I got it. Our first big family dinner, after all.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, tone suspicious.
Bob backed away, tugged Scott with him. “We’ll go wash our hands.”
(237 words)
Bob caught it easily with one hand. “No ball in the house - you know the rules.” He kicked off his sneakers and nudged them against the wall between Clay and Dan’s shoes, padded toward the kitchen.
“Hey Danny, did you set the table?” he called in the general direction of the stairs.
Shelley said, “Dinner’s all ready as soon as you’ve washed your hands.”
Bob came up short. Scott crashed into his back.
Shelley stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She wore an apron and held a wooden spoon.
Bob blinked. “I didn’t realize you and Dad would be back from your honeymoon so soon.” He scratched his head nervously. “We’d have, uh, cleaned up a little bit if we’d known --”
“It’s fine,” Shelley said. “I have to do my part in the household now too, right?” Her smile was a touch too bright. “Your dad told me you love homemade pizza.”
Scott opened his mouth to ask if she’d used their mother’s recipe, and Bob dug an elbow into his ribs.
“Yeah. We do. Uh...need one of us to set the table? Dad has regular chores for us when we’re off the road,” Bob said.
Again with the too-bright smile. “Nope. I got it. Our first big family dinner, after all.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, tone suspicious.
Bob backed away, tugged Scott with him. “We’ll go wash our hands.”
(237 words)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Liquid Void
Joe was unsure what to make of the strange new sensations he was experiencing. All around him was a liquid void; clear, yet dim to his eyes. He could hear clearly the hiss of air as he drew in a breath and was fascinated with the bubbles that started so small when he exhaled, but grew to resemble mushroom clouds of air. Joe reached out one hand and batted at one of the blossoming bubbles. It exploded into micro bubbles. He smiled behind his respirator and hit another one.
He could see Steve just below him, cruising along with the current slowly. As Steve exhaled and the bubbles drifted up towards him, Joe removed his own mouthpiece and breathed in the bubble of air. Delighted, Joe almost forgot himself and laughed, but he remembered to replace his respirator.
Joe deflated his BCD just a little and sunk lower, passing the thermocline into colder waters, coming along side of Steve as his friend studied a bit of rock formation.
Steve turned to look at the younger man, peering out through a slightly fogged mask. He tapped Joe's air dial and motioned that it was time for them to return to the surface. Joe nodded and began to rise lazily, passing into the warmer waters just below the surface of the lake.
After surfacing, Joe removed his mouth piece, "that was amazing! Can we do it again?" he asked.
"Sure," Steve said, "let's go get more air."
He could see Steve just below him, cruising along with the current slowly. As Steve exhaled and the bubbles drifted up towards him, Joe removed his own mouthpiece and breathed in the bubble of air. Delighted, Joe almost forgot himself and laughed, but he remembered to replace his respirator.
Joe deflated his BCD just a little and sunk lower, passing the thermocline into colder waters, coming along side of Steve as his friend studied a bit of rock formation.
Steve turned to look at the younger man, peering out through a slightly fogged mask. He tapped Joe's air dial and motioned that it was time for them to return to the surface. Joe nodded and began to rise lazily, passing into the warmer waters just below the surface of the lake.
After surfacing, Joe removed his mouth piece, "that was amazing! Can we do it again?" he asked.
"Sure," Steve said, "let's go get more air."
Light and Empty Air
Stone had a kind of impatience to it-
like Eddy's solid stare, he knew the rock and
the wind better than me.
Would rather be telling it what to do, rather tossing an
errant pebble into the black sea.
-rather maybe toss me.
Lights like blood in vein and
dark punched out by star stare, he waited
on a tall building worry free.
With a wave of nothing between us
he beckoned down the black street.
-time to jump, to let my death free.
Before he could push me, I jumped-
and did not die-
but wish to the moon I had.
like Eddy's solid stare, he knew the rock and
the wind better than me.
Would rather be telling it what to do, rather tossing an
errant pebble into the black sea.
-rather maybe toss me.
Lights like blood in vein and
dark punched out by star stare, he waited
on a tall building worry free.
With a wave of nothing between us
he beckoned down the black street.
-time to jump, to let my death free.
Before he could push me, I jumped-
and did not die-
but wish to the moon I had.
Empty Kitchen
Scott threw the door open and kicked off his shoes, barreled into the kitchen with a holler of, “Mom!”
He drew up short when the kitchen was empty. The triplets crashed into his back, and there was a cacophony of yelps and protests.
“I got dinner, boys,” Kevin said.
All four of them turned and stared at their father, at the bags of take-out he was trying to juggle. Scott swallowed hard and turned back to the empty kitchen. As one, the four brothers burst into the kitchen and tore through the cupboards, the drawers, but everything was finally gone - Mom’s favorite pans, the glass bowls she’d gotten from Grandma, her best knives.
The boys had been forced to wait outside of the courtroom while their father and mother finished talking to the judge, and they’d listened to their mother say she’d get the rest of her things, be “out of their hair” by tonight, but they hadn’t expected her to be quite so gone.
Kevin set the bags of food down on the kitchen table. “Scotty, get some plates.”
The boys stared at each other. Kevin huffed, impatient.
“Scotty, Clay, I said plates.”
Dan shook his head. “Níl ocras.” And he turned and headed for the stairs. His brothers followed.
When Kevin went to check on them hours later, they were all crammed onto Scott’s bed, curled around each other like a pile of puppies, faces wet from crying.
Kevin had heard the first night was the worst.
(250 words - Irish is "not hungry", or an approximation thereof)
He drew up short when the kitchen was empty. The triplets crashed into his back, and there was a cacophony of yelps and protests.
“I got dinner, boys,” Kevin said.
All four of them turned and stared at their father, at the bags of take-out he was trying to juggle. Scott swallowed hard and turned back to the empty kitchen. As one, the four brothers burst into the kitchen and tore through the cupboards, the drawers, but everything was finally gone - Mom’s favorite pans, the glass bowls she’d gotten from Grandma, her best knives.
The boys had been forced to wait outside of the courtroom while their father and mother finished talking to the judge, and they’d listened to their mother say she’d get the rest of her things, be “out of their hair” by tonight, but they hadn’t expected her to be quite so gone.
Kevin set the bags of food down on the kitchen table. “Scotty, get some plates.”
The boys stared at each other. Kevin huffed, impatient.
“Scotty, Clay, I said plates.”
Dan shook his head. “Níl ocras.” And he turned and headed for the stairs. His brothers followed.
When Kevin went to check on them hours later, they were all crammed onto Scott’s bed, curled around each other like a pile of puppies, faces wet from crying.
Kevin had heard the first night was the worst.
(250 words - Irish is "not hungry", or an approximation thereof)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Midnight
Bryan settled into the plush chair in the dim room. He let his eyes wander as the room began to fill with people, people dressed nicely. Bryan sunk a little in his chair, feeling under dressed. He was a bit surprised at how many people were walking in. He turned to Mark beside him, "Seriously, what are we doing here?" he asked.
"Keep your voice down," Mark whispered, "It's impolite to be so loud."
"When you said you were taking me out, I didn't think I was going to feel so out of place. Couldn't we have gone to a club or something? Someplace with music?" Bryan asked in a lower voice.
"There will be music," Mark said and smiled cryptically.
"What kind of music?" Bryan asked as he perked up at the thought.
"You'll see," Mark smiled.
"It better not be lame," Bryan warned.
"Shh, it's about to start," Mark said.
The curtains rose and Bryan rolled his eyes when he heard the first strains of orchestral music, but quickly fell under the spell of the powerfully driven music and the voices. He looked down once at his playbill that he had ignored up to this point.
Trans-Siberian Orchestra Presents:
Beethoven's Last Night.
Mark had to nudge Bryan when the performance was over to get him to move at all.
Bryan stood up slowly, "I..." he said, unable to articulate his feelings.
Mark threw an arm around his twins shoulders, "I told you you would like it," he said.
"Keep your voice down," Mark whispered, "It's impolite to be so loud."
"When you said you were taking me out, I didn't think I was going to feel so out of place. Couldn't we have gone to a club or something? Someplace with music?" Bryan asked in a lower voice.
"There will be music," Mark said and smiled cryptically.
"What kind of music?" Bryan asked as he perked up at the thought.
"You'll see," Mark smiled.
"It better not be lame," Bryan warned.
"Shh, it's about to start," Mark said.
The curtains rose and Bryan rolled his eyes when he heard the first strains of orchestral music, but quickly fell under the spell of the powerfully driven music and the voices. He looked down once at his playbill that he had ignored up to this point.
Trans-Siberian Orchestra Presents:
Beethoven's Last Night.
Mark had to nudge Bryan when the performance was over to get him to move at all.
Bryan stood up slowly, "I..." he said, unable to articulate his feelings.
Mark threw an arm around his twins shoulders, "I told you you would like it," he said.
Thinking and Not Thinking
Carolyn thought about it up until the moment she first did it. She spotted him at the back of a crowd in Louisiana, but she hadn’t been able to get away at first because Kevin was in need of her translation services. She hopped from foot to foot and translated banal French conversation until Kevin noticed her impatience and cut her loose.
She considered her options as she skirted around the edge of the crowd. Would it take stabbing, shooting, or bare hands?
With all of the screaming and cheering little girls, no one would notice her; she was one fan in a throng of hundreds. It was easy to herd him away from the crowd, down an alley, especially one that was a perfect setup for a sniper.
The Orphaneers were running at half-tilt if they didn’t think the Janissaries had multiple operatives in play. Carolyn signalled John before she cut away from the group; hopefully this would be done before the brothers noticed she was missing.
Specs and procedure ran through her mind; she had to make it silent and quick, dismantle all the common methods of identification (face, teeth, fingerprints), then call in a cleanup team.
She was behind him for a full thirty seconds plotting her options before he even realized she was there; stabbing it was.
And then she stopped thinking.
When she was thinking again, it was to wipe her bloody hands on his shirt and use his radio to call the Janitors.
(250 words)
She considered her options as she skirted around the edge of the crowd. Would it take stabbing, shooting, or bare hands?
With all of the screaming and cheering little girls, no one would notice her; she was one fan in a throng of hundreds. It was easy to herd him away from the crowd, down an alley, especially one that was a perfect setup for a sniper.
The Orphaneers were running at half-tilt if they didn’t think the Janissaries had multiple operatives in play. Carolyn signalled John before she cut away from the group; hopefully this would be done before the brothers noticed she was missing.
Specs and procedure ran through her mind; she had to make it silent and quick, dismantle all the common methods of identification (face, teeth, fingerprints), then call in a cleanup team.
She was behind him for a full thirty seconds plotting her options before he even realized she was there; stabbing it was.
And then she stopped thinking.
When she was thinking again, it was to wipe her bloody hands on his shirt and use his radio to call the Janitors.
(250 words)
Monday, September 14, 2009
Are you Ready?
"I'm not sure about this David," Ariana said.
"I'm sure you'll love it." David said with a charming smile as he reached for her.
"Well, I'm not sure I'm ready for it," Ariana said stepping back just a little.
"Your first time might as well be with me," David said, stepping a little closer.
"I'm scared," Ariana whispered.
"Everyone is the first time," David replied as he held out an inviting hand to her.
Ariana hesitated for a moment longer.
"Don't you trust me?" David asked, his smile faltering just a bit.
"Of course I trust you," Ariana said as she placed her hand in his. There was no one she trusted more.
"I won't hurt you," David promised as he drew her closer to him.
"I know you won't," Ariana whispered as her arms snaked around his waist.
"Are you ready?" David whispered in her ear.
"Yes," Ariana said.
"Then let's do it."
Ariana closed her eyes and let the sensations carry her away.
"Open your eyes or you are going to miss the whole thing," David said.
Ariana opened her eyes and watched the scenery flash past from the back of David's motorcycle.
"I'm sure you'll love it." David said with a charming smile as he reached for her.
"Well, I'm not sure I'm ready for it," Ariana said stepping back just a little.
"Your first time might as well be with me," David said, stepping a little closer.
"I'm scared," Ariana whispered.
"Everyone is the first time," David replied as he held out an inviting hand to her.
Ariana hesitated for a moment longer.
"Don't you trust me?" David asked, his smile faltering just a bit.
"Of course I trust you," Ariana said as she placed her hand in his. There was no one she trusted more.
"I won't hurt you," David promised as he drew her closer to him.
"I know you won't," Ariana whispered as her arms snaked around his waist.
"Are you ready?" David whispered in her ear.
"Yes," Ariana said.
"Then let's do it."
Ariana closed her eyes and let the sensations carry her away.
"Open your eyes or you are going to miss the whole thing," David said.
Ariana opened her eyes and watched the scenery flash past from the back of David's motorcycle.
Dreadfully Anticlimactic
Ben tasted like the bad coffee in the training hall and menthol candy; he had a cold. Carolyn was pretty sure she wouldn’t catch it from him, but nonetheless she was dubious about kissing him.
And kissing him she was, quite solidly on the mouth, a press of lips that seemed to take forever and was hardly rife with the fireworks and swell of violin music that was always in the movies. She wasn’t sure if she should try to breathe through her nose lest she accidentally snort on her partner, but she was running out of oxygen and didn’t know just how long a kiss was supposed to last.
As far as first kisses went, this one was dreadfully anticlimactic.
Then Ben’s lips parted, and Carolyn felt the swipe of his tongue, and she jerked back.
“Ew!” She scrubbed a hand across the back of her mouth.
“You’re fifteen,” Ben said. “Boys don’t have cooties.”
“She’s been playing a tomboy for the past six years - give her a break,” John said. “It takes some getting used to, but on the off chance one of the brothers tries to kiss you, you can’t punch him in the face.”
“She punched me before I kissed her,” Ben pointed out.
John crossed his arms over his chest. “Try it again.”
(218 words)
And kissing him she was, quite solidly on the mouth, a press of lips that seemed to take forever and was hardly rife with the fireworks and swell of violin music that was always in the movies. She wasn’t sure if she should try to breathe through her nose lest she accidentally snort on her partner, but she was running out of oxygen and didn’t know just how long a kiss was supposed to last.
As far as first kisses went, this one was dreadfully anticlimactic.
Then Ben’s lips parted, and Carolyn felt the swipe of his tongue, and she jerked back.
“Ew!” She scrubbed a hand across the back of her mouth.
“You’re fifteen,” Ben said. “Boys don’t have cooties.”
“She’s been playing a tomboy for the past six years - give her a break,” John said. “It takes some getting used to, but on the off chance one of the brothers tries to kiss you, you can’t punch him in the face.”
“She punched me before I kissed her,” Ben pointed out.
John crossed his arms over his chest. “Try it again.”
(218 words)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Rules 3.1
Here it is, another modification to our rules! (Hopefully they won't get too complicated and people are keeping up. Let me know if this business starts to look like the library of Congress.)
Awed Awake inadvertently suggested something that I should have thought of before, so kudos to her for having common sense. The rule on prizes has changed: if you issue a challenge in a given week, you get to pick the winner...and you also get to write the prize. (Saves me the dilemma of having to write for myself.) Reply to this post and let your fellow writers know what fandoms you can write in, what fandoms you won't write in, what types of stories you won't write, and where you will post your shiny gold medals. So we don't overburden each other, prizes are limited to 500 words, but a winner can request a poem if she likes. (Let's face it - all the players at this point are female.)
Awed Awake inadvertently suggested something that I should have thought of before, so kudos to her for having common sense. The rule on prizes has changed: if you issue a challenge in a given week, you get to pick the winner...and you also get to write the prize. (Saves me the dilemma of having to write for myself.) Reply to this post and let your fellow writers know what fandoms you can write in, what fandoms you won't write in, what types of stories you won't write, and where you will post your shiny gold medals. So we don't overburden each other, prizes are limited to 500 words, but a winner can request a poem if she likes. (Let's face it - all the players at this point are female.)
Challenge #42 Virginal
Ok, let me try this once more...
The title of this weeks challenge need not have anything to do with sex, in fact I would commend you if kept clear of that subject all together. Not to promote censorship, just originality. Anyone can write that scene, what I want from you is the first time at something. It can be a first date or the first time behind the wheel.
Go nuts.
Oh, and your max word count is 250. ^.^
The title of this weeks challenge need not have anything to do with sex, in fact I would commend you if kept clear of that subject all together. Not to promote censorship, just originality. Anyone can write that scene, what I want from you is the first time at something. It can be a first date or the first time behind the wheel.
Go nuts.
Oh, and your max word count is 250. ^.^
Overview #41: Hobbies
Wow. This was surprisingly hard and reminded me how little I know some things about my characters. I gave Dan collecting random foreign currency because, well, when I was a kid, that's what I did, and I can see Dan having that same sentimentality going on. I let Clay be a chess genius because, well, I figured he deserved more love than angsting over his twin brother's girlfriend. I figured Scott and poetry would be a fun one because it does make sense, given how he's a bit of an esoteric lyricist ("without orchids in my pockets" anyone at all?), and also I have awesome memories of late nights with my girls reading random snatches of poetry to each other. (I shall confess I totally stole the poetry I used off of the HN poetry thread.) I couldn't think of a hobby for Carolyn that wasn't something combat-related, and I guess I didn't want to harp on her agent-ness too much (although, in retrospect, Agent!Carolyn doesn't really get enough love, does she?), and I couldn't think of any decent hobbies for Bob that didn't include drawing (seemed unlikely), so I went for creative dating. Kind of a hobby, right? I figured Dinah needed some love, and I remember how much my mom liked playing with my hair and trying out new braids, so I wove that in there. Plus Bob did have such pretty long hair back in the day. Listening to music in the dark is totally something I still do, and I have some awesome memories of hanging out with my friend Karen, blissing out to music and nothing more. Also, raw and obscure but totally fangirl music is definitely a hobby of mine these days. ("Curtains Are Moving." On YouTube. The girl cover is pretty good, and Iris Campo's is good, but the desolation in the original is for the win.)
Still, this was a good chance to explore my characters, and I think they're progressing pretty well.
Also, I think I win this week, but that's technically up to Madness.
Oooh, what will I write for myself? I might have to steal Hotch from Chanita...
Still, this was a good chance to explore my characters, and I think they're progressing pretty well.
Also, I think I win this week, but that's technically up to Madness.
Oooh, what will I write for myself? I might have to steal Hotch from Chanita...
Music in Darkness
Carolyn went in stages. First, she’d punch her way through her homework, studying as hard and fast as possible. Unfortunately, she was ridiculously fast as it was, and she’d be done too soon. Then she’d hit the gym and work out, practicing kicks and punches up on the high beam to test her balance. When she was finally exhausted, Melanie would find her sprawled on the floor of the den with all the blinds closed and all the lights off, listening to music.
Carolyn had a habit of listening to raw music, demos and one-takes of songs by random people Melanie had never heard of.
“Why do you do it?” Melanie asked. “The music, I mean.”
The crazy studying and working out was obvious - it was Carolyn’s way of coping with stress. Melanie sort of envied Carolyn’s ability to turn her stress into productivity.
“If I cut off all my other senses, I can fully absorb the song. Taste it on the tip of my tongue, feel it in my bones.” Carolyn smiled and tugged off her headphones. “For three-odd minutes, it’s like being in another world.”
“Where do you find this music, anyway? I’ve never heard of any of these bands.” Melanie squinted at the names scrawled on the surface of the burned CD.
Carolyn held out her headphones. “Close your eyes and listen to their voices and see if you recognize any of them, hm?”
Melanie accepted the headphones and laid back on the hardwood floor, closed her eyes. Then she let the song wash over her. She didn’t recognize the lyrics or the voice, but the song was soothing. It came with its own brand of melancholy and optimism, and at the end of a day like today, Melanie could see why Carolyn liked it.
“I only heard one voice.” Melanie tugged off the headphones.
“What? Oh. Wrong version of the right song.” Carolyn shuffled through her CDs. “Here - try this one. Raw studio track, but decent nonetheless.”
Melanie closed her eyes and tugged on the headphones, lay back and wait for the music to wash over her. It was like being in another world. She could feel the beat in her bones - and the song had a surprisingly heavy back beat - and the guitar notes dancing across her skin.
And the voices - she almost missed the switch from verse to chorus, from one singer to another. If she focused on each note, each syllable, she felt like she was floating. Floating back to a place in her youth when there was no stress, no finals, no student loans, just happy pop music.
The song ended, and she opened her eyes. “That was...I can see why you do it.”
Carolyn grinned. “Did you recognize their voices?”
“Should I have?”
Carolyn shrugged. “If you didn’t, it’s no big deal.”
Some internet searching later, Melanie learned that same same was not the name of a band, but Thai slang for twins.
(495 words - I love the cover version of this song, but I like the original, too)
Carolyn had a habit of listening to raw music, demos and one-takes of songs by random people Melanie had never heard of.
“Why do you do it?” Melanie asked. “The music, I mean.”
The crazy studying and working out was obvious - it was Carolyn’s way of coping with stress. Melanie sort of envied Carolyn’s ability to turn her stress into productivity.
“If I cut off all my other senses, I can fully absorb the song. Taste it on the tip of my tongue, feel it in my bones.” Carolyn smiled and tugged off her headphones. “For three-odd minutes, it’s like being in another world.”
“Where do you find this music, anyway? I’ve never heard of any of these bands.” Melanie squinted at the names scrawled on the surface of the burned CD.
Carolyn held out her headphones. “Close your eyes and listen to their voices and see if you recognize any of them, hm?”
Melanie accepted the headphones and laid back on the hardwood floor, closed her eyes. Then she let the song wash over her. She didn’t recognize the lyrics or the voice, but the song was soothing. It came with its own brand of melancholy and optimism, and at the end of a day like today, Melanie could see why Carolyn liked it.
“I only heard one voice.” Melanie tugged off the headphones.
“What? Oh. Wrong version of the right song.” Carolyn shuffled through her CDs. “Here - try this one. Raw studio track, but decent nonetheless.”
Melanie closed her eyes and tugged on the headphones, lay back and wait for the music to wash over her. It was like being in another world. She could feel the beat in her bones - and the song had a surprisingly heavy back beat - and the guitar notes dancing across her skin.
And the voices - she almost missed the switch from verse to chorus, from one singer to another. If she focused on each note, each syllable, she felt like she was floating. Floating back to a place in her youth when there was no stress, no finals, no student loans, just happy pop music.
The song ended, and she opened her eyes. “That was...I can see why you do it.”
Carolyn grinned. “Did you recognize their voices?”
“Should I have?”
Carolyn shrugged. “If you didn’t, it’s no big deal.”
Some internet searching later, Melanie learned that same same was not the name of a band, but Thai slang for twins.
(495 words - I love the cover version of this song, but I like the original, too)
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