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Navi
November 6th, 2014, 11:48 PM
Hey guys. It's always been a goal of mine to write a story. Usually, I give up after the first paragraph, but this time I'd like to actually complete this project. Now, I've never written anything complex before, so please be nice :3 I rarely ever show any of my works to anyone. (sorry in advance for formatting issues- it's a bit late and I copied/pasted from the word doc. :P

As for the story, I don't really want to give too many details away, but it's been something I've wanted to write about for the longest time now. Usually the story sounds so negative, I end up scrapping it. I'm sure this still has some flaws, but practice makes perfect. :)

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Every Tuesday evening, he quietly slips through the front entrance of the bar and promptly takes his seat on a stool by the window. He orders his usual- a large glass of what I can only guess is sweet tea. His glass jar has a small piece of paper taped on to it, reading “tips”, is placed at the edge of an antiquated piano. Even though he’s been playing here for a few months, I still don’t know his name.

I tend to avoid the bar since the noisiest and heaviest local bands play blaring sing-along songs six out of the seven days of the week. Tuesday is a totally different atmosphere. The boy at the piano – he controls the atmosphere, not by his voice, but by his musical talent alone.

There’s something that makes me unable to keep my eyes off him. He’s unusually quiet. If he does speak, it’s very soft, usually to say “thank you” to someone that tosses a few bucks in his tip jar. There’s a soft but pleasantly warm smile that never leaves his face. On occasion, if a patron gets too rowdy, he can crack a quick smile. He probably knows more songs in his head than all the songs I have on my iPod, and he’ll even know most songs people request to hear.

I arrived at the bar 6:30, my normal time. I look about for a few seconds, and then hurry myself over to my normal table. The dinner rush usually leaves by now, and it offers a few moments for me to people watch and play some trivia until its time.

At 6:55, he walks in and gets right to his normal routine. The moment the clock reads seven, he opens the lid to the piano and gets right to it. Instantly, everyone’s noticing the music being played. It takes a little bit of time, but the crowd starts to settle in. Some dance, some sing along, some sit silently.

I started to get curious. “What’s his favorite song?” I muttered under my breath. Not long after that, I hastily grabbed a napkin and jotted down, “Request – I want to hear your favorite song. Thanks for playing our favorites and keeping us entertained.” I folded up the napkin, walked over to the piano, threw five bucks in the jar, and slid the napkin along the piano.

Before I even turned around to head back to my seat, I heard him quickly say “thank you” without skipping a single note of the song he was playing. By now, most of the crowd had left for the night, so this was my best bet to hear my song.

Half an hour passes and I still haven’t heard any confirmation from him. Either that or he already played it. I was worrying, now I don’t know his name and perhaps I didn’t hear his favorite song? I feel terrible. However, I was the last customer left in the bar.

I was almost starting to pack up and head out, I heard that same soft voice call out, “This is my final song of the evening. By request, I’ll be playing my favorite song.” Immediately after finishing speaking, he started to play. I’m relieved. I get to find out what his favorite song is!

It’s not even thirty seconds into his final piece of the night, and I know what he’s playing. Broken Wings by Mr. Mister. I’m speechless; I wasn’t even aware this song could even be played by a solo piano. I could see his face poke up every couple seconds, and I started to shed a few tears. It’s the most majestic version of the song I’ve ever heard.

After he finished his song, I hastily dabbed my eyes and walked over to the piano. As I got there, he shut the piano's lid and glanced at me.

“I really hope I didn’t upset you. I know you requested my favorite song. It has deep meaning to me, and I really hate to show my emotion. That’s why I wanted to wait until everyone left, because I knew you’d stick around.”
“It was the most beautiful piece of music I’ve heard in the longest time, you don’t need to apologize at all. “ I feel bad; maybe his favorite song has some meaning to him that I can’t fathom.

I didn’t get through the sentence before his cement-like soft smile started to change into a fuller grin. “I’m so glad to hear that. It means a lot to know people enjoy the entertainment. Anyways, I’m Adrian. Thanks for listening for the longest time.”
“I’m Aiden. I’m so glad you’ve been coming up here. People absolutely love hearing your performances.”

At this point, the bartender politely asked us to head on out so she could “go home and get some shut eye”.

Adrian nudges me, “Would you like to go outside, then? I don’t really have anywhere to go right now, and plus, fresh air sounds beautiful right now” I nod my head, gather our things, and we both make our way out the door.
“So, where are you headed to? I don’t want to hold you up.” I ask.

Without hesitation, Adrian replies, “I’m going to head back to my dad’s place. It’s a bit of a walk, but it allows for some fresh air. You’re more than welcome to walk along; it’s nice to have some company.”

I know my place is opposite where he lives, but this may be my only chance to converse with him. I’m not going to let myself down again. “If you wouldn’t mind it, I’d be more than happy to accompany you!”

Living in a small town, away from the major cities where yellow haze of light pollution keeps the universe hidden, the stars are almost always visible at night. If everything is right, then I could even make out the Milky Way running across the sky. I can’t help but stare into the sky anytime I’m outside.

After a few more seconds of awkward silence, I muster up the courage to ask, “Why is Broken Wings your favorite song? I absolutely love the 80’s, so it’s nice to see someone else our age enjoy it.”

He abruptly comes to a halt on the sidewalk and looks me in the eye. He seems rather upset but he doesn’t let the emotions get the upper hand.

“Are your parents still together?”
“Sadly, no. They split up when I was about ten years old. I still feel bad about it.”
“It’s unfortunate. Really is. More and more people I meet have divorced parents. Love seems to be an emotion that’s running out of everyone’s lives. My parents decided to split up about three years ago.”

The slight smile I had since we walked out together immediately faded and my eyes started to water yet again. “I’m really sorry that life seems to play unfairly, you don’t seem like the type that doesn’t deserve anything like that.”
He stared into the sky, and his voice got even softer. “I know plenty of other people hurt in the same exact way we do. We cope in a variety of ways. I consider it a blessing that I'm able to bring others happiness through my sorrows and musical talent.”

I’m extremely upset at myself for asking this question. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel bad. “You seem to stay very positive. It’s got to be tough on you; I know I feel the same exact way.”
“It’s life,” Adrian replies quickly, “for some, it’s easy sailing. For the rest of us, we all have great struggles. Sorry to get you down so quickly, I didn’t mean for that to happen at all. Care to chill out at the park for a bit? I have time.”

azure moonstone
November 6th, 2014, 11:53 PM
I really like this Brice, and I hope you share more when you have it written and feel comfortable with it. This is really not like anything I have personally read before. You've got me interested. :)

Starling City
November 7th, 2014, 12:17 AM
Sounds good so far! It's all about committing to the project, regardless of the result. I've found that to work for me in terms of finding motivation. You just have to do it, commit and finish it to feel a sense of accomplishment. Keep going with it! You have a good foundation here.