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Chapter 1 (present day!)
My career was basically over before it started. Nobody was interested in listening to songs about love and break-ups. They only wanted to hear the stupid stuff like "My dog ran away. I got the puppy-gone blues!" How stupid is that?! So now I retired to my house in Beverly Hills, California. In my big 1 million dollar mansion 2000 square feet. And nobody to be in it with. My father is always gone...I only see him once a week one week in a month. If he ever comes home, I'm the last person on his list he wants to see. My mother abandoned me when I was a year old. I have no siblings that I know of! So I stay in this big ol' house with at least 5 bedrooms and 9 rooms in all...all alone. Sometimes I even get tired of hearing my own voice! Sometimes, I drive myself to tears wanting someone besides myself to talk to.
Suddenly I heard a song being played on the acoustic guitar. I followed the angelic sound until I got to my bedroom window. There my window stood, open. There he stood on his window seat, playing the guitar, singing a song about being sorry for something. "I'm sorry, for breaking all the promises I wasn't around to keep. It's all me, this time is the last time I'll ever beg you to stay, but you're already on, your way." The boy sang, his soprano, angelic voice sang. I tilted my head to the side in awe.
"Sorry was I bothering you?" The boy asked. "No, not at all. I was just listening. Continue singing. Please." I answered. "Okay...if you insist." the boy said. "Feel the sorrow, feel the pain, knowin' that I am to blame, for leavin' your heart out in the rain. Though you'd rather walk away, leave me with the price I have to pay, before you go I just wanted to say....I'm sorry for breakin' all the promises I wasn't around to keep, it's all me, this time is the last time I will ever beg you, to stay, but you're already on your way." The boy sang. The sincereness echoing long after he was finished singing. I clapped when his beautiful song was finished.
"Name's Nick." The boy said. "Rosalie." I said. "That song was beautiful, what inspired you?" I asked. "Well, I found a poem in a notebook somebody left at one of our concerts. It was beautiful, it touched me. I knew that the person who wrote it was feeling something. Like they had their heart broken. I made that poem into a song." Nick said. "Could I read the poem?" I asked. "Sure." Nick said. He put his guitar onto his bed and fished for a yellow notebook. He opened it to the page with the original poem on it. The houses were close enough that if I reached I could touch his hand. I grabbed the notebook.
I looked at the page in digust. Puzzlement, but mostly disgust. I reconized this poem, these words have echoed in my mind since my career ended.
I wrote this poem!!
Any comments now?
