My story... don't steal it!
...Her heart was pounding, she could feel it in her throat, her chest.. It felt like the first time she had preformed here, for all the rich, famous, glamarous people of Maryland. Here, in this little restaurant, she had made her living. She had been able to provide for her little girl. At twenty-seven, she was still beautiful, extraordinary as any movie star, but she also had the one extra talent. A voice that could bring tears to anyone's eyes, even those of the angel's. She had never been nervous, maybe once or twice in her whole life, to perform in front anyone. But now, this mysterious man, this tall, dark-haired stranger came to the restaurant that sat on the cliff, high above the sea; the restaurant had been her home since she ran away from Ireland. He was tall and lanky, always wearing dark slacks that fit him to perfection, a white shirt, a vest, with his coat hooked on his finger over his right shoulder, and a small hat always tipped, shading his eyes in the dim light. He had a tiny beard on his chin, and smooth, tan skin, from what she could see. Only once had he brushed by her when she stood by bar, trying to find him after a show. He had vanished, as if in thin air, when she turned around to get a better look at him...
As Brenna ran her long, delicate fingers through her shiny, wavy black hair one last time, Mariah, her helper, tugged the green fabric on the top of the dress, then let go and watched the silk flow around Brenna's entire body. She last helped Brenna pull on her crème white gloves and put diamonds in her ears, just as she was being announced for the evening. Brenna kissed Mariah's forehead, then walked out gracefully on to the stage. She stood in front of the microphone, and bent her head slightly, signaling the band. She looked to the middle of the room, where a small staircase and a banister seperated the two dining rooms. He wasn't exactly where he always was, tonight he was sitting at the small table by the stairs, staring at her. He was usually standing.. She heard the key of the piano, and began singing. She watched him slightly lift his head, as he always did when she began singing, and listen. She had chosen this song especially for tonight, for she was absolutely sure she was going to talk to him. The song flowed out of her mouth perfectly, as if she could never make a mistake or hit the wrong note. As she closed the song, she watched him relax, fold his hands on top of the table. Looking down, she waited for the music to start again. She sang for the next hour, but her voice still went on strong, and he sat, sipping his bourbon and looking straight ahead.
...Her heart was pounding, she could feel it in her throat, her chest.. It felt like the first time she had preformed here, for all the rich, famous, glamarous people of Maryland. Here, in this little restaurant, she had made her living. She had been able to provide for her little girl. At twenty-seven, she was still beautiful, extraordinary as any movie star, but she also had the one extra talent. A voice that could bring tears to anyone's eyes, even those of the angel's. She had never been nervous, maybe once or twice in her whole life, to perform in front anyone. But now, this mysterious man, this tall, dark-haired stranger came to the restaurant that sat on the cliff, high above the sea; the restaurant had been her home since she ran away from Ireland. He was tall and lanky, always wearing dark slacks that fit him to perfection, a white shirt, a vest, with his coat hooked on his finger over his right shoulder, and a small hat always tipped, shading his eyes in the dim light. He had a tiny beard on his chin, and smooth, tan skin, from what she could see. Only once had he brushed by her when she stood by bar, trying to find him after a show. He had vanished, as if in thin air, when she turned around to get a better look at him...
As Brenna ran her long, delicate fingers through her shiny, wavy black hair one last time, Mariah, her helper, tugged the green fabric on the top of the dress, then let go and watched the silk flow around Brenna's entire body. She last helped Brenna pull on her crème white gloves and put diamonds in her ears, just as she was being announced for the evening. Brenna kissed Mariah's forehead, then walked out gracefully on to the stage. She stood in front of the microphone, and bent her head slightly, signaling the band. She looked to the middle of the room, where a small staircase and a banister seperated the two dining rooms. He wasn't exactly where he always was, tonight he was sitting at the small table by the stairs, staring at her. He was usually standing.. She heard the key of the piano, and began singing. She watched him slightly lift his head, as he always did when she began singing, and listen. She had chosen this song especially for tonight, for she was absolutely sure she was going to talk to him. The song flowed out of her mouth perfectly, as if she could never make a mistake or hit the wrong note. As she closed the song, she watched him relax, fold his hands on top of the table. Looking down, she waited for the music to start again. She sang for the next hour, but her voice still went on strong, and he sat, sipping his bourbon and looking straight ahead.