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Tales told - a.k.a free reads > October 2017 Writing Prompt--Sing me a song?

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message 1: by Sammy Goode (new)

Sammy Goode | 5380 comments Here it is and what a sweet picture it is! What is their story? Give us your idea in a story, a snippet, a poem, a thought--all are welcome! As always please keep it YA themed!

message 2: by Sammy Goode (new)

Sammy Goode | 5380 comments reserved

message 3: by Kaje (last edited Oct 08, 2017 11:07AM) (new)

Kaje Harper | 16562 comments Aww, I love that picture - looking forward to what people might do with it.

A brief poem for fun:

When I was six and starting school
Scared, waiting for that bus,
You had me laughing like a fool
And turned me into us.

Years of adventures, lots more jokes
It still was you and me.
I love your mom like my own folks,
Two homes where we could be.

In high school, we each did our part.
Your smile opened up doors.
You hugged me when Sue broke my heart.
I you, when Tim hurt yours.

Now I don't want to think about
The end of childhood days.
We've one more year to goof and shout
And share your wacky ways.

This road trip, hours in the car,
Would be a total bore
Except for you and your guitar,
So why do I want more?

I'm definitely not thinking
About the junior dance,
With me on stage about to sing,
Your and my band's big chance

I'm not remembering the way
The stagelights seemed to flare,
Not how you kept looking my way
The flick of your long hair

Not how your hands on those tight strings
Made my shirt feel too hot,
Not how I filled with flutter-wings
And looked right back, a lot,

Nor how, since then, it's been the same
And yet so different,
Not how I jolt, hearing your name
Or where my thoughts get sent.

I don't know if you too can tell
That something in me flipped.
You do the friendly clown so well
My fledgling hopes get nipped.

And if the song from that dumb night's
What you now choose to play,
Your smile is wide, your eyes are bright,
"Hey, dork," is all you say.

I'll roll my eyes and just pretend
It doesn't get to me,
And play the dumb forever friend
While hoping that I'll see,

A sign I'm not the only heart
Who's wanting something big,
That goof and geek was just the start
To our forever gig.

message 4: by Sammy Goode (new)

Sammy Goode | 5380 comments What a lovely way to start us off, Kaje! ❤️

message 5: by Kaje (new)

Kaje Harper | 16562 comments :) Thanks

message 6: by Eric (new)

Eric Westfall (eawestfall) | 198 comments How wonderfully beautiful, Kaje.

You warmed up a coolish Sunday afternoon in just the right way.


message 7: by Kaje (new)

Kaje Harper | 16562 comments Aww. Thanks, Eric.

message 8: by Adelle (new)

Adelle R. (adele02) | 9 comments Finally something melted my heart after an awful day, thank you! ♥

message 9: by Kaje (new)

Kaje Harper | 16562 comments ((Hugs)) sorry the day was a bad one. And thanks :)

message 10: by Mika (last edited Nov 07, 2017 06:53AM) (new)

Mika | 21 comments You don't notice me. Not really. I've done all kinds of things, that aren't friend things, or at least not just friend things, but stuff someone more than a friend might do. Like when you had that flat tire, and I biked all the way out there to help you fix it because you have musician hands that can't do practical stuff? A friend might do that, but would a friend have brought you a cinnamon latte too, your favorite drink, because it was a chilly afternoon? On their bike?

Or the time you got pasta sauce on your shirt at school in the cafeteria right before you were giving that speech in assembly and I traded shirts with you and wore yours even with the stain that made Michael Grayson call me a slob? Did you notice I sniffed the collar of yours, as I put it on? Nope, you did not.

You laugh and sing and play and joke around while I feel like my heart is burning its way through my chest and waving signal flags.

But I'm too chicken to do what I should do. I should drag you somewhere private and wave my hand in front of your face and make you see me, and maybe kiss you. Well, maybe not that until you say yes, but I have to ask you to get you to say yes, and I'm too chicken.

I'm drinking this stupid pineapple milkshake because Joey screwed up and there was one too few chocolate ones and I know you like chocolate a lot and don't like pineapple, so I said I'd take it. Even though I don't like pineapple too. (But they do say it has its uses for adding good flavor to body fluids, and no, my mind did not just go there on the school van and I kind of casually lay my arm across my lap because yes, my mind did just go there and sometimes I feel like a perv.)

Because are you even gay? You said romance kills art and you are nothing if not an artist with the songs you write, but none of them are about romance or love and the hints and lines that sneak in have no pronouns, so how can I tell? Without asking. I can't ask.

So here we are again you and me, best buddies, making our straws slurp and squeak in our plastic cups jut the way we did when we were eleven and fourteen and sixteen, and it's fun, sure, because you're always fun but I have to not watch your mouth as you suck on the straw or someone might see. You might see. Which would be good but also scary and what if you are angry or make fun of me, which you've never done, not for real when it hurts, but over this maybe you might. And we're on the school van for two more hours to go which would make it worse.

So when you try to get out your guitar I help you, even though you bang my shins with the case and poke my arm with the bit with the screws on it because anything is better than sitting here thinking about your mouth and other stuff I want and can't have, or am too scared to find out if I can have. I have years of practice at the friend parts, anyway. You grin and start picking out a song on the strings, which sounds like that kid show with the bears and behind us Nick laughs and says to play real music but you close your eyes and play that dumb tune like it is Beethoven or Dylan or something. I roll my eyes and listen and pretend I hate it too, but I'm leaning against you and your shoulder is warm against mine and your arms have some muscle from all the playing that I feel, even through our jackets.

I can hold a dopey expression forever. It's part of being your friend. But one day I'll pick up my guts in my hands, well not literally because that would be gross even to someone who likes gross as much as you do, but I'll find courage inside me. And ask.

the end

message 11: by Eric (new)

Eric Westfall (eawestfall) | 198 comments What marvelous and realistic imagery!

A superb story.

Thanks for sharing.


message 12: by Kaje (new)

Kaje Harper | 16562 comments Mika wrote: "You don't notice me. Not really. I've done all kinds of things, that aren't friend things, or at least not just friend things, but stuff someone more than a friend might do. Like when you had that ..."

So much fun - I like the breathless tone of it, and the hope. Thanks for writing for us.

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