Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1799271
by Everun
Rated: E · Monologue · Other · #1799271
Songs do help, but so do people
When I first heard her voice, I thought it like one of a siren's calling the sailors to their doom; for I could feel the ache in my heart.
She was in the gyumnasium, singing one of her debut songs. I was down the hallway, dawdling my way to her performance. I dawdled no more once I found her voice, and when I saw her, I could almost smile.
I hung by the doorway, nodding to the teaching instructors as I made my presence known. I watched her sing a song, looking at the necklace around her neck. Beautifully beaded with the makings of our Native elders, it bore dark stones and blue gems. It shone in my eyes, so far away and yet so clearly.
It was her charm, the necklace she wore to every performance. It kept her a safe mind, as she spoke to the audience of her song. She told her story well, and the audience polite as ever, slowly being drawn in by her voice.
I listened, and I knew what she spoke of. Every word rang true with my past, and she shared it. She healed from it the way I wanted to. My wounds have turned to scars I cannot look at; yet, she stands telling the story of each on her body.
I walked away from the performance, her voice rining behind me with every step. I wondered how much I could heal if I tried, but I thought it no longer when peers suddenly pulled me back into a teenager's life.
Weeks later, I sat in gloom, surrounded by all the various items in my room. My room was bland. A bed in the corner with a dresser beside it. Lining the wall were years of certificates for honoring school system. The walls were blank without much decor, save for a drawing I made of my shadow.
Her came on the radio, and I knew who it was. They did not introduce her, they usually give the names later. I do not know her name, I never did. The same song, and the same ryhthm. I'm filled with ache again. I feel doom.
The sway of her voice finally ends, and I['m sitting in my room. The sun comes in brightly as ever, and I feel myself want to smile. I get up off my bed and walk to the door; for a teenager's life awaits.
I found a website online, and kept her songs close. They turned out to be my lights when I found myself surrounded by shadows. I felt strong, and indeed my work ethic improved. My voice became heard and I was smiling to everyone.
Life went on for a teenager, and I barely noticed how the world had changed within my spur of happiness. When I was one day called for a youth trip to the cities, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself with old friends, who introduced me to new ones.
We worked along with the others, and we played among ourselves. It's how I got to the elevator, to change into something more fitting for the poolside.
She was just coming out of the elevator, and I saw the necklace. Blindly strayingf away from the lobby, I followed her until it was just us, then I called her name. I felt my stonach press the emergency button for some reason, but I held it down.
I gave her the smile that wanted to be seen the first time I heard her voice, and told her about all that she had done for me.
She thanked me and went on her way.
The very next day, I sat with over 300 people in a conference setting, all eating and chatting. She comes on the stage, and my eyes glint to the necklace. She's planning on singing.
But first, she speaks. She tells the same story of her life; and it's the reason she's there. Telling the story to people who all had the same plights as she, and she was willing to help them all through it.
Then, her finger, small and dainty, flicks out to me. And I see a smirk as my stomach wants to press the button again. She tells them all I gave her the gift she's always wanted: Tto have someone chase her down just to say hi, and speak about how she has helped that person.
I feel my face burning as the table turns to smile at me. I had given her my shadow and she showed it to the room. And they were all proud.
I looked at her, and she still had the smirk. She was my friend, and I could tell that now. I smiled back, and even now I smile when I see her. I hear her voice, but it does not ache anymore. She's the real celebrity in my life, and I will always adore that song...
© Copyright 2011 Everun (everun at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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