One of the greatest challenges a writer faces is relating to their work so the reader can bond with the words. This is a challenge many ignore and simply write about mock feelings, but for those who go all the way to express themselves the work often goes un-thanked, but rewarding to see what was once indescribable scribbled onto a page of a notebook or text. To find the missing words was most of the beauty of music, everything one could feel can be put into lyrics and rhythm. Many say love can not fit into words, but music seems to prove them wrong with every love song that comes on to make someone think of the one they want most in this world. However, the same can be said about all the darkness residing in one's heart.
Within the heart and soul of Beantown, Boston Mass, there was a writer struggling to find the words for a new song she was working on. With a job of musician, it was dangerously competitive and she had to keep on top to do what she loved. Although she was very skilled on the drums and vocally when the time called she was most well known for her song writing for some of the more popular bands who had the time and energy to rise in the business. Chewing the cap of a pen that hung loosely between her teeth that nibbled at the plastic, the trusty journal of every thought and scribble she ever made that turned into a work of art kept right in hand that hung by her side. Using the free hand to rub the back of her neck, a very warm spot on her slender frame since her messy hair was down for once, she tried to get blood flowing by massage stimulation but to no avail.
This song was to be her own, the one meant for her alone to use in order to improve her standing in this business but her mind was empty. The song she was to write needed to stun the world and make them think, something powerful to relate to in a sense but at the same time have it be something unique to her alone. Bare feet walked over the soft white carpet to the large window of the apartment as she looked down to the city lights. Traffic and hustle moved through the city like a swarm of insects threading through grass, and the sight caused a small smile to those thin beautiful lips. Eyes as dark as the night itself scanned the world around her and soon she was leaning forward, removing the arm from her neck to rest between her forehead and the glass to get a better view below. Oh, how they moved and flowed as perfectly as a metronome, each beat as predictable as the next. If only there was something to disturb the pattern. This was the very thing her song needed to do.
Suddenly those thin lips moved into a rare smirk and her dark painted eyes narrowed as the perfect thought entered her head. There was something she could do to cause a change of pace most people needed, something only she could do for them in a way both in music and outside a beat and melody. Standing up straight from the glass she turned on a single heel and walked back to her kitchen counter and placed down her notebook and pen neatly and she walked over to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. Once she pulled it out she took a long sip until a quarter of it was gone. Picking up one of her metal chairs she used for when her band practiced she was soon sitting at the very window she was once leaning against, looking at where her breath left it's mark on the clear material. This was truly a perfect idea for her.
It took a few moments before she stood again, the water bottle empty and she turned to move behind the chair and her hand took hold of it to lift it up. With a throw similar to a shotput toss the chair met with the glass and like the ripple effect it spider webbed as the chair went through and pieces fell out of the window after the chair. Due to it's weight and momentum the chair fell faster then the sparkling glass pieces, and soon the girl smiled once more and took a running leap out of the window, swan diving so gracefully that no one would have believed she was jumping from a 13 story mark. After her jump she was soon greeted with only the sound of wind, a silence of the busy city around her was rare without headphones, but maybe this was better.
Closing those dark eyes she fell faster and faster with each second, the material of her wife beater flapping as did the ends of her black flare jeans distracting her from the honks and screams of the busy city sound. The atmosphere around her became heavier with the smells of her city and those eyes re-opened to watch the chair land on the street with a painful sound of metal crunching, but then her eyes noticed the glass all around her. For once, she felt more like an angel then just another misfit of this world. Slender hands reached out to touch her newfound purity, but this dream was almost over, so her hand had to pull away as if she realized she could never truly catch a falling star. Here it comes, the end of her beautiful dream and the calmness of the beat of her city.
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