Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
Wrote a short piece after I found out about Any Winehouse. I guess you only appreciate someone only when they're gone - I cannot help but think how true that is. She had an amazing gift and she shared her light with the world. Thank you Amy Winehouse. Rest in Peace wherever you wish to be.
Title: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
Rating: R
Summary: A slice of a dying star's final moments.
Warning: Mentions of drug use, vulgarities.
Author's Note: The following story unravelled as I heard Amy Winehouse's tracks and covers. Inspired by the lady herself but not really based on her. Don't sue but i will if you plagiarize. Lol. Just read and enjoy. Leave a review if you can please? Thank you!
The air is thick with anticipation and excitement. Sweet escape was within reach and perhaps...perhaps something magical might happen - as it was always bound to.
Everyone's attention turns towards the her when the familiar strains of the blasted trackmix start to blare out of the speakers. She growls, pissed that someone has fiddled with her things. She intends to shoo every fucking dickwad out of her home...until her eyes land upon a pair of lovebirds macking out in a corner, oblivious to the world. How effin fitting, she thinks.
"Let it be our bloody effin anthem-tribute shit of Love and fuck: crank that bastard up!" she declareds, her decree arousing cat calls and wolf whistles and applauses as everyone in the room becomes aware of the couple.
Someone in the room starts giggling - their tinkling sound bright and clear, joining the loud, shrill raucous squacks and caws that had rung out at her decree. An inexperienced new bird let loose a raspy cough, possibly due to the smokey interior. She chokes out a roar at their delight.
No one notices the stray tear that runs down her face.
She sinks into her oversized armchair as the memories start to come crawling out from the woodwork. She recalls with distinct clarity the hisses and boos as she escaped from her last public showing. She tosses down another shot, revelling in the sensations as it glides down, leaving a burning trail. Some of the elixir splashes onto the table as she tries to aim into the tiny glass. She gives up and downs the bottle instead. She feels a slight buzz and feels a lot more light-headed, just a little more satisfied.
She feels a tingle down in her bones; something is about to happen. It feels so strange and peculiar but she ignores it in favour of the warmth. The comforting warmth from within that seems to radiate and envelop her being as the merriment continues around her, singing along to the next track.
Epiphany strikes her as she mouths along to the song ingrained so deeply into her. A smile cracks through - this is Purgatory, she thinks, where they await for entrance into Heaven.
A place where she would always be safe from the judgemental Outside with its outdated stereotypes, its relentless pressures, its messed up divisions and messed-up distinctions. This house, this room, this party is her own slice of Perfection: shared only with those who understood, those who were forced as she herself had once been.
She feels comforted by the thought that she is amongst her own people, her chosen few.
She grins as someone breaks out the stash. There is no scramble, no rush. Everyone awaits their turn - and she's first in line.
The cleansing fires are lit and shared amongst those that chose to. The Holy Grail exchanges hands several times. Blue pills and red pills are downed without a thought - both offered Bliss and Salvation after all.
The room starts to blur around the edges for her as the song 'Rehab' starts to spins.
She grins and takes a deep breathe, bracing herself for the ride.
They tried to make me go to rehab...
I said no, no, no.
She sighs as she feels the first rush of the cooling rivers course through her.
Perched on the throne-like armchair, she surveys the scene before her - everyone has found their own little corners; some are sprawled across the plush rug or on the bare floor.
A few might have long since begun their journey to greet Morpheus or were getting lost in their own little Rabbit holes - evident by the glazed look in their eyes. She feels a tinge of Jealousy that they had found it after so little - she is still imprisoned here.
She wonders if she should wait; already she can the familiar sensations closing in on her.
She is suddenly reminded of her last stage and she falls into temptation; fuck the risk of dying. She was going to be invincible once again after this.
She grabs just one more shot and and grins at the world before her as her eyelids start to feel just a little bit heavy; she feels the surge of Power almost immediately.
She surpresses the urge to lose herself and downs a tiny harmless pill of Salvation.
She wants to last a little longer this time round. Perhaps...perhaps when she gets back down to Earth, it would hurt a little less with a lengthier memory of Heaven.
She gradually surrenders herself to the familiar Unknown with open arms.
'Fuck you, World. See you much later', she thinks before she disappears into the Abyss, leaving behind her shell.
Fin.
Title: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
Rating: R
Summary: A slice of a dying star's final moments.
Warning: Mentions of drug use, vulgarities.
Author's Note: The following story unravelled as I heard Amy Winehouse's tracks and covers. Inspired by the lady herself but not really based on her. Don't sue but i will if you plagiarize. Lol. Just read and enjoy. Leave a review if you can please? Thank you!
The air is thick with anticipation and excitement. Sweet escape was within reach and perhaps...perhaps something magical might happen - as it was always bound to.
Everyone's attention turns towards the her when the familiar strains of the blasted trackmix start to blare out of the speakers. She growls, pissed that someone has fiddled with her things. She intends to shoo every fucking dickwad out of her home...until her eyes land upon a pair of lovebirds macking out in a corner, oblivious to the world. How effin fitting, she thinks.
"Let it be our bloody effin anthem-tribute shit of Love and fuck: crank that bastard up!" she declareds, her decree arousing cat calls and wolf whistles and applauses as everyone in the room becomes aware of the couple.
Someone in the room starts giggling - their tinkling sound bright and clear, joining the loud, shrill raucous squacks and caws that had rung out at her decree. An inexperienced new bird let loose a raspy cough, possibly due to the smokey interior. She chokes out a roar at their delight.
No one notices the stray tear that runs down her face.
She sinks into her oversized armchair as the memories start to come crawling out from the woodwork. She recalls with distinct clarity the hisses and boos as she escaped from her last public showing. She tosses down another shot, revelling in the sensations as it glides down, leaving a burning trail. Some of the elixir splashes onto the table as she tries to aim into the tiny glass. She gives up and downs the bottle instead. She feels a slight buzz and feels a lot more light-headed, just a little more satisfied.
She feels a tingle down in her bones; something is about to happen. It feels so strange and peculiar but she ignores it in favour of the warmth. The comforting warmth from within that seems to radiate and envelop her being as the merriment continues around her, singing along to the next track.
Epiphany strikes her as she mouths along to the song ingrained so deeply into her. A smile cracks through - this is Purgatory, she thinks, where they await for entrance into Heaven.
A place where she would always be safe from the judgemental Outside with its outdated stereotypes, its relentless pressures, its messed up divisions and messed-up distinctions. This house, this room, this party is her own slice of Perfection: shared only with those who understood, those who were forced as she herself had once been.
She feels comforted by the thought that she is amongst her own people, her chosen few.
She grins as someone breaks out the stash. There is no scramble, no rush. Everyone awaits their turn - and she's first in line.
The cleansing fires are lit and shared amongst those that chose to. The Holy Grail exchanges hands several times. Blue pills and red pills are downed without a thought - both offered Bliss and Salvation after all.
The room starts to blur around the edges for her as the song 'Rehab' starts to spins.
She grins and takes a deep breathe, bracing herself for the ride.
They tried to make me go to rehab...
I said no, no, no.
She sighs as she feels the first rush of the cooling rivers course through her.
Perched on the throne-like armchair, she surveys the scene before her - everyone has found their own little corners; some are sprawled across the plush rug or on the bare floor.
A few might have long since begun their journey to greet Morpheus or were getting lost in their own little Rabbit holes - evident by the glazed look in their eyes. She feels a tinge of Jealousy that they had found it after so little - she is still imprisoned here.
She wonders if she should wait; already she can the familiar sensations closing in on her.
She is suddenly reminded of her last stage and she falls into temptation; fuck the risk of dying. She was going to be invincible once again after this.
She grabs just one more shot and and grins at the world before her as her eyelids start to feel just a little bit heavy; she feels the surge of Power almost immediately.
She surpresses the urge to lose herself and downs a tiny harmless pill of Salvation.
She wants to last a little longer this time round. Perhaps...perhaps when she gets back down to Earth, it would hurt a little less with a lengthier memory of Heaven.
She gradually surrenders herself to the familiar Unknown with open arms.
'Fuck you, World. See you much later', she thinks before she disappears into the Abyss, leaving behind her shell.
Fin.