Welcome everyone! This is going to be an odd story. Ever chapter is a different song. Every song has a different meaning. By the way, the tense will be changing a lot, and it's not just a flaw. I'm writing it like that. And with each meaning, we learn something new. I don't own any of these characters, besides those I make up. Enjoy!
Chapter 1:
Second Intermission
Anticipation
"You ready for this Claire?" The voice pounded through my skull, and all I could do was nod at the unwanted intrusion of my thoughts. Kimmy stood next to me, and I barely felt her hand on my shoulder. We'd been friends since we were younger. It had always just been the two of us.
"Never." I manage a smile at her.
You know the third act
Small talk drops out of the playWe're pushed onto stage as the curtain opens. We're like mice, looking for the cheese in the audience's applause. There's no audience. This is just rehearsal. The musical is in a month and a half, and no one knows where they we're running around to yet. I'm just happy I'm in this year.
I guess I shouldn't be complaining.
Rehearsal is over within another hour.
You're standing in the lobby
Tightening your tourniquet
My blue car isn't working again. So much for the campus blocking most of the wind. I have to walk. I'll be graduating next year and I'll be 'out in the real world'. Ha. I've already tried that. I spent five years out of high school finding my place in the world. As I've noticed, that didn't work so hot. I traveled a lot in that time, however. I visited Africa and Europe and Russia. I even visited Vatican City, where the architecture was amazing.
Still, out of seeing the world I realized how much I needed an education. I saw little girls starving as they were clinging to their starving mothers. I saw prostitution in all of its horror.
That made me about twenty-seven by only a few weeks. Almost thirty. My dream was almost over. After all, one can only act for so long until they become too old for the leads. My goal: Christine in the Phantom of the Opera.
Waiting for it
And the bell sounds
In my mind the lights fall on top of me in bliss. I'm standing center stage, maybe a little down as well. All eyes are on me as I take my first breath and plunge into my song. The air passes through my vocal chords without effort and I'm stunning as I startle the audience with my voice. It's crisp and light, and no effort goes into it from my body. A yawn-like deep breath from my diaphragm. Another note floats out.
And the lights flashAll the chaos from before stepping onto the stage is gone.
And there's all these questions milling around
And there's no time to ask
I come out of my dreams as the wind rips through my scarf and hat. It blusters into my face and I have to push my head down to walk forward. The wind is screeching and I can't hear a thing.
My apartment is half a mile from the campus, and it takes me half an hour to walk in the wind. I live in a red brick building by myself. I guess I could've lived with Kimmy, but she already has roommates who don't like me. Besides, I didn't want to inconvenience her.
My key doesn't work the first two times I try, and then the door is stuck. I push at it for a moment until one of my neighbors comes by and pushes it open for me. I thank him but he waves his arm and says it was all right before crossing the hall and opening his door in much the same fashion.
There's leftover Pasta-Roni in my fridge so I microwave it and that's my dinner. It takes a minute to reheat and I spend the rest of the night watching sappy movies and going over my script. My next class isn't for two days, so I will be at a loss. Perhaps I'll paint something in my makeshift painting room.
The next morning I wake up on the couch around nine. I decide to put my plan to action, and I set up my paints. When I open the case for my brushes I can't help but gaining a smile from ear to ear.
I'm in the mood to paint, and the painting is uncovered as my hand moves over canvas. It's my last canvas; I'll need to save up to get more. The painting is shadows and I can't distinguish anything yet. I fill the canvas with a base coat of darker colors, the lightest color being a dark brown. I'm not sure where I want to go, so I put everything away. The painting is set to dry in the sun. I look out the window and I see that it's a beautiful day out. I open the curtains around the apartment, letting my home bask in its warmth.
There are a few clouds and the shadows from them pass over my apartment floor.
My white cat rounds the corner and meows when she sees me. Her brown ears perk up a little more than usual and I smile at her. "Hey Star." I say affectionately as I rub behind her ears. "Where've you snuck off to?" I asked, as she purrs at me. I pick her up and sit back on the couch. We're both content sitting in each other's emotions.
No bliss for the little miss leadingCuz she's learning about bleeding
Star becomes impatient after a few minutes and she jumps from my embrace. She heads toward a can of tuna I left out for her. I smile as she examines it.
"I know, I know." I muttered happily, "Food is much more interesting than I am."
As if telling me this was true, the cat starts digging in.
I spend the day reading, studying my music, and painting. Finally I become hungry and I'm in the mood for brownies. I shuffle around in my kitchen and realize I'm one short of the proper amount of eggs. I sigh.
"Star," I say impatiently, while putting my winter clothes on, "I'll be back. Mommy needs to go to the store." I stuff the scarf around my neck and open the door. The cat walks away and I laugh at her. "How do you think you eat?"
I shuffled out the door and slammed it closed behind me. After locking it up I head out of the red brick building to face the winds of winter once again. I walk in much the same fashion as the day before, my head digging into my chest.
The store is a block away from my apartment, and although the prices are raised, I don't want to walk any farther. I just wanted my brownies. It takes five minutes for me to walk there, and while I'm searching for the best priced eggs a man comes into the store. He's dark, and he wore a white mask over his face. His black hair is messed up, and it looks like he shot someone or something. He looks as if he's never seen a store before. I shrug, I've seen weirder, and continue my hunt for the right eggs. I pick the best eggs I can find and then search the shelves for something else. I get in line. The weirdo is in front of me.
He's asking the man at the counter where he is. I bud in.
"New York." I say, annoyed. "Are you buying anything?"
"New York?" He asked, stunned. I sigh. He's obviously a tourist.
"Look at the ticket." I said impatiently. The man turned around a stared at me for a moment. I noticed there were no items in his hand so I pushed past him and set my groceries on the counter. The man behind the counter glanced at the creepy man wearily and then began to ring up my things.
"I'm not in New York." He told me stubbornly. I looked at him carefully. The mask covered his entire face, so I had no idea how he looked. His presence made him seem like his eyebrows were knit together in thought. From his body, he looked to be about thirty-five?
"Whatever." I muttered, taking my bag from the cashier. He looks at the man awkwardly. I give him my $5.34. I get away as fast as I can. The bell on the door announces my exit like in a play…
But what is love if not exquisite
Our only saving grace
Or is it?I hear the bell ring again as I walk toward my apartment… maybe if I can get there before he bothers me…
I try not to look but I peek a glance. He's standing in awe at the large buildings surrounding us. 'You need help.' I think in my own thoughts.
He catches up. "What time is it?"
I sigh and stop. I turn and raise an eyebrow at him. I stretch up my arm to pull my watch into view and I read the time. "Two." I say, and continue walking.
"No." He tries to make me understand. "What year?"
I continue walking this time but I'll humor him for a few minutes. "That's not a very good way to get a girl's phone number." I say, struggling to pull my sleeve down again as to keep the cool air off my skin.
"What?" He asked, keeping up with me impatiently.
"2005." I answer him as I look around for my keys.
"What?" He asked, his expression of pure surprise.
And somewhere in your iris
Blooms the reflection of my surpriseI look at him and I am caught by his eyes for only a moment. There is no color behind them.
"You need help." I told him straightforward, as I turned to open the door to my apartment. I opened into the house and began up the stairs. He was following me up the stairs in the red brick place. I continued on, and ended up in front of my door. The door unlocked the first time by pure chance but it was still stuck. I put my groceries on the floor, out of the way. I begin to push on the door, but it doesn't budge. A neighbor walks by that I never liked. His foot crumbles my eggs.
"Hey!" I said harshly, as he continued on.
"Yeah?" He asked, smirking at me.
"You're going to pay for those." I told him steadily.
He laughed and continued walking. I gave away a tired breath and pushed opened my door.
"You'll say sorry to her, monsieur." A French accent said in the hallway. I looked back out. It was the wacko. I didn't realize he was French. I was too preoccupied with the thought of my brownies.
"And who are you, her new boyfriend?" The neighbor snaps, laughing at this lunatic, who was half the man's structure. I shook my head, knowing I'd at least have to clean up the man for trying to stick up for me. I was like that, no matter how crazy he was.
The man seemed confused with that statement.
"Are you implying that I'm courting her?" He asked skeptically.
"I'm implying that you move your ass out of my way." The neighbor threatened.
He was out cold on the floor before my eyes, and it was so fast I couldn't tell you how it happened.
Wacko checked for the man's pulse and stood up, as if he was unfolding himself like a shirt. I stared at him in amazement before coming to my sense.
"You didn't have to, you know." I answered, picking up some of the mess in the hallway. He walked over without a sound and pickup the part I couldn't carry. I looked at him, and he stared back at me.
He simply nodded.
As you stroll past every last do not enter
And touch me at my epicenterI couldn't help but smile a slightly crooked smile. I opened the door. "You can come in, if you want." I said, although my own mind was yelling at me to never invite a stranger in. After all, if he did that to my neighbor, what could he do to me?
His body took on the effects of shock, but after a second he walked in, taking the trash from my hands on the way there. I didn't let him take the trash, and I closed the door and locked it.
And the bell sounds
And the lights flash
And there's all these questions milling around
And there's no time to askI walked into the kitchen and threw out the broken eggs. There were three eggs that weren't crushed. I smiled, "Do you like brownies?"
He walked in behind me, keeping his distance. "Excuse me, mademoiselle?" He asked, warily looking around the kitchen. Star found her way over to this man and began rubbing herself around his legs. The man gave a hint of amusement and he leaned down to scratch her around her ears.
"You're lucky." I said, stopping from looking all around the kitchen for things to make the brownies.
He stopped touching her and looked at me as if he wasn't supposed to touch Star. I looked at Star affectionately. "She doesn't usually like people." I looked up to the strange man and smiled again. "What's your name, anyway?"
"I am Erik." He said, looking as stiff as he sounded.
"It's nice to meet you." I said, turning back to the cupboards. I moved aside some cereal, looking for my flour. It was lost.
"It's also a pleasure, Mademoiselle." I smiled at his way of speaking. I have never been called Mademoiselle before.
I'm always trying to get there
I never really get there"I'm Claire." I said quickly, making a happy face when I saw my flour.
"Are you French, Claire?" he asked.
"Half." I answered, juggling the eggs and a mixing bowl.
To that quiet place where
I accept myself"And I take it from your accent that you're from France." I said, cracking an egg on the side of the mixing bowl. The yoke fell out into the pan in a syrupy way.
"Oui." He answered with a single word. I hate that.
"Where in France?"
He seemed to think about it for a few moments, as if he didn't know if he should tell me. I certainly attracted the weird ones.
"Paris."
"Oh, I've never been there before." I said, smiling sadly. "I've always…"
I trailed off, knowing what I was thinking was stupid.
Inside I'm deep inside some high school
Locker room no clothing
Popping the zits of my self loathing
"Always, Mademoiselle?" His voice pushed into my thoughts.
"Oh, never mind." I forced out. "It's not important."
He nodded in understanding and Star rubbed against him again, anxious for his attention.
Under the florescent lights
And the bell sounds
And the lights flash and there's all these questions milling around
And there's no time to ask"Do you know how to make brownies?" I asked, smiling at him.
He shook his head, no.
"Do you want to learn?" I asked, sounding stupid even to myself.
"I don't eat much, Mademoiselle." He admitted, still looking uncomfortable.
Second Intermission
Anticipation"Well, perhaps you can make some for me someday." I said lightly. Did I really mean that I wanted to see him again? I was shocked at the meaning of the statement.
You know the third act
Small talk drops out of the play
He was silent. "Perhaps you'll enjoy it."
And you're standing in the lobby
Tightening your tourniquetHe was silent, and I was ready to kick him out of my house. I was waiting for his answer. I'd never talk to him again.
Waiting for it
Waiting for it
"If you insist, Mademoiselle."