prompt for July 21st - Rent/Discworld
Prompt for July 21:
Write about a song.
April's out walking. Not to anywhere in particular - Roger went to the dealer this week, they've got what food they could afford after that, and there's nowhere she has to be - but she needed to get out of the loft for a while. She was getting twitchy, not the withdrawal kind of twitchy, more the cabin-fever sort.
Besides, it's a nice, warm, sunny day. She still remembers how to enjoy those.
She ends up in Tompkins Square Park - always a good place for people-watching - and just wanders aimlessly for a while. And then she hears some music.
At first, she thinks it's someone driving by, but it doesn't doppler away. She looks around for someone carrying a boom box, but there's not one of those, either. There's just music, apparently sourceless but surprisingly insistent.
And catchy.
It actually stirs up something she hasn't thought of in years - her joking with Roger, not long after they first met, about how she wanted to be the biggest thing rock and roll had ever seen. But she always had meant it on some level, and before the heroin, writing and performing music was the greatest high she could have hoped for.
It's been five months and a bit since she or Roger have played, even longer since she wrote something. She's horribly out of practice, and she's probably going to have to ride out this high before she can really try to do anything useful.
But there's no reason not to try. After all, it could be now or never.
Write about a song.
April's out walking. Not to anywhere in particular - Roger went to the dealer this week, they've got what food they could afford after that, and there's nowhere she has to be - but she needed to get out of the loft for a while. She was getting twitchy, not the withdrawal kind of twitchy, more the cabin-fever sort.
Besides, it's a nice, warm, sunny day. She still remembers how to enjoy those.
She ends up in Tompkins Square Park - always a good place for people-watching - and just wanders aimlessly for a while. And then she hears some music.
At first, she thinks it's someone driving by, but it doesn't doppler away. She looks around for someone carrying a boom box, but there's not one of those, either. There's just music, apparently sourceless but surprisingly insistent.
And catchy.
It actually stirs up something she hasn't thought of in years - her joking with Roger, not long after they first met, about how she wanted to be the biggest thing rock and roll had ever seen. But she always had meant it on some level, and before the heroin, writing and performing music was the greatest high she could have hoped for.
It's been five months and a bit since she or Roger have played, even longer since she wrote something. She's horribly out of practice, and she's probably going to have to ride out this high before she can really try to do anything useful.
But there's no reason not to try. After all, it could be now or never.