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She sat on the creaking seat of the swing, manipulating its movements with her feet; surrounded by a desert of plastic and fall-safe ground covering. Her head was bent against the reddening sun, listening to the thrashing, painful music in her headphones. The music sank to silence, the music player’s screen lit up with the next song, “Disenchanted” the screen read. The girl’s eyes locked on an undistinguished patch of molten grass and a distinct feeling of nostalgia settled around her with the opening lines of the song; then they too faded to silence as waves of overwhelming memories stifled all noise…
It was over a year ago, she had camped overnight at the venue of the concert to ensure she would stand at the barrier, just feet away from the super stars she idolized. They had opened the concert with the song “Disenchanted” a melancholy love song that had love drunk teens kissing under the concealment of the neon twilight. She could’ve swore the singer was looking at her for the better duration of the song; but just figured he must have been looking at the two attractive girls behind her each yielding a bottle of vodka. She had always been a little jealous of these immortals. They were paid for what she considered a privilege to do for nothing; they got to make an impact on people’s lives through the lyrics sang and chords strummed. Not all the kids in the crowd where admirable characters, they pushed her and shoved her, with no consideration for her until she swayed dangerously with the sea of bodies; unwillingly allowing the current to move her away from the stage. Her face was no longer barely viewable from the stage, she was restrained by the suffocating closeness of the people pressing against her, their sweat drenching her clothes and their recycled breath circulating her lungs.
The song had concluded, the set was nearly finished; the lead singer gazed down at the set-list at his feet, then to the concealed congregation staggering beneath him. Preparing to address the crowd, He looked to the familiar spot at the front and centre of the swarm barely ignited by stage lights. He had been glancing there the entire night, watching an unfamiliar girl take the brunt of the horde’s assault. She had natural mousey hair and a cosmetically virginal face, which even that was strange in the company he had become accustomed to. His teen followers were out to prove a point, they dyed their hair unnatural colors and pierced their faces; witch in their attempts to be unique and non-conformist made them all look like an elaborately uniformed gang. He look toward the middle of the rayless arena and addressed the unknown, confessing his love for the city he and his band where playing in. Then, directing his unanswered dialogue to the lighting crew, he told his admirers he wanted to see their pretty faces. The lights came up and his eye’s met her face once more before the band struck up and the opening chord to the fast pace hit, “I’m Not Okay”.
This was the song she came for, the aggressive drum beat crashed around her as the crowd jumped to the cadence and ricocheted off each other. A cluster of bodies to her right fell to the ground, most of which just picked themselves up and immediately started pulsating once again except one girl that had been standing next to her. The girl didn’t surface like the rest of them; it was one of the attractive girls with the vodka, obviously drunk and improbably capable of getting up by herself. Risking her own safety she ducked down, still battling the sway, and retrieved the comatose girl, helping her to a first aider and missing the song she had camped overnight to hear played live.
She saved that girl, and he had witnessed it from the stage. The song had drawn to a close and so had the set, once again he stepped up to the plate and spoke to the enlivened crowd at his feet.
“There’s a girl in the crowd that I’ve been watching tonight, and I just now saw her do the most selfless thing I’ve seen at a concert in a very long time.” He spoke in an almost musical voice that suited his classically handsome features, every word tumbling gracefully over the last in an effortless flow.
“While everyone around her was drinking and acting beyond themselves, she was listening to the music. Listening to the messages in the music, And when the crowd around her crushed, pushed and shoved to the point that they collapsed, she ensured one young girl, who was unable to get up, got to safety. Things like that are the reason I like playing to fans, to know that I've had an influence in your lives; and when good things like that happen every so often I like to think it was because of the Way you interpret our music.”
He looked right at her when he spoke every word. He was speaking to her, the man whose face plastered her walls and whose voice got her through the toughest times in her life, now was looking and speaking to her as if there was no one else around. He summoned her to the stage, and ordered the screaming worshipers to admit her back up to the front of the horde. He pulled her to the stage himself. He thanked her personally, and pulled her into a quick embrace before helping her back into the crowd.
There was silence once again in her headphones, her eyes drifted back into focus and took in her blackened surroundings. She smiled quietly to herself looking at the moonlight sitting cross-legged on the grass, casting distorted shadows of the play-park lounging before her. That memory was the most treasured thing in her possession and no matter what happens in her life she knew she would always have it in the safe-guard of her mind, a reward for the good deeds she did.
----------------------
Okay so I wrote most of it last night/this morning at like 4am. I think I wrote the good parts this morning and the not so great bits when I was fully awake, hmm strange. Yeah the last three paragraphs I wrote this afternoon that I don't really like. The story need to have a moral/message and i think mine is pretty obvious. It was supposed to be 400 words+ mine is in excess of 1000
Any title suggestions?
Comment nicely and I would appreciate critiques.
Thanks for reading! [If anyone can be bothered]
It was over a year ago, she had camped overnight at the venue of the concert to ensure she would stand at the barrier, just feet away from the super stars she idolized. They had opened the concert with the song “Disenchanted” a melancholy love song that had love drunk teens kissing under the concealment of the neon twilight. She could’ve swore the singer was looking at her for the better duration of the song; but just figured he must have been looking at the two attractive girls behind her each yielding a bottle of vodka. She had always been a little jealous of these immortals. They were paid for what she considered a privilege to do for nothing; they got to make an impact on people’s lives through the lyrics sang and chords strummed. Not all the kids in the crowd where admirable characters, they pushed her and shoved her, with no consideration for her until she swayed dangerously with the sea of bodies; unwillingly allowing the current to move her away from the stage. Her face was no longer barely viewable from the stage, she was restrained by the suffocating closeness of the people pressing against her, their sweat drenching her clothes and their recycled breath circulating her lungs.
The song had concluded, the set was nearly finished; the lead singer gazed down at the set-list at his feet, then to the concealed congregation staggering beneath him. Preparing to address the crowd, He looked to the familiar spot at the front and centre of the swarm barely ignited by stage lights. He had been glancing there the entire night, watching an unfamiliar girl take the brunt of the horde’s assault. She had natural mousey hair and a cosmetically virginal face, which even that was strange in the company he had become accustomed to. His teen followers were out to prove a point, they dyed their hair unnatural colors and pierced their faces; witch in their attempts to be unique and non-conformist made them all look like an elaborately uniformed gang. He look toward the middle of the rayless arena and addressed the unknown, confessing his love for the city he and his band where playing in. Then, directing his unanswered dialogue to the lighting crew, he told his admirers he wanted to see their pretty faces. The lights came up and his eye’s met her face once more before the band struck up and the opening chord to the fast pace hit, “I’m Not Okay”.
This was the song she came for, the aggressive drum beat crashed around her as the crowd jumped to the cadence and ricocheted off each other. A cluster of bodies to her right fell to the ground, most of which just picked themselves up and immediately started pulsating once again except one girl that had been standing next to her. The girl didn’t surface like the rest of them; it was one of the attractive girls with the vodka, obviously drunk and improbably capable of getting up by herself. Risking her own safety she ducked down, still battling the sway, and retrieved the comatose girl, helping her to a first aider and missing the song she had camped overnight to hear played live.
She saved that girl, and he had witnessed it from the stage. The song had drawn to a close and so had the set, once again he stepped up to the plate and spoke to the enlivened crowd at his feet.
“There’s a girl in the crowd that I’ve been watching tonight, and I just now saw her do the most selfless thing I’ve seen at a concert in a very long time.” He spoke in an almost musical voice that suited his classically handsome features, every word tumbling gracefully over the last in an effortless flow.
“While everyone around her was drinking and acting beyond themselves, she was listening to the music. Listening to the messages in the music, And when the crowd around her crushed, pushed and shoved to the point that they collapsed, she ensured one young girl, who was unable to get up, got to safety. Things like that are the reason I like playing to fans, to know that I've had an influence in your lives; and when good things like that happen every so often I like to think it was because of the Way you interpret our music.”
He looked right at her when he spoke every word. He was speaking to her, the man whose face plastered her walls and whose voice got her through the toughest times in her life, now was looking and speaking to her as if there was no one else around. He summoned her to the stage, and ordered the screaming worshipers to admit her back up to the front of the horde. He pulled her to the stage himself. He thanked her personally, and pulled her into a quick embrace before helping her back into the crowd.
There was silence once again in her headphones, her eyes drifted back into focus and took in her blackened surroundings. She smiled quietly to herself looking at the moonlight sitting cross-legged on the grass, casting distorted shadows of the play-park lounging before her. That memory was the most treasured thing in her possession and no matter what happens in her life she knew she would always have it in the safe-guard of her mind, a reward for the good deeds she did.
----------------------
Okay so I wrote most of it last night/this morning at like 4am. I think I wrote the good parts this morning and the not so great bits when I was fully awake, hmm strange. Yeah the last three paragraphs I wrote this afternoon that I don't really like. The story need to have a moral/message and i think mine is pretty obvious. It was supposed to be 400 words+ mine is in excess of 1000
Any title suggestions?
Comment nicely and I would appreciate critiques.
Thanks for reading! [If anyone can be bothered]
Last edited by Mrs Tom Felton on Mon Aug 03, 2009 9:00 pm; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : typos, et cetera)
