Image
By Misha
Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters of "Instant Star" (if I did do you think she'd be fifteen?), I don't know who does, but it's not me and I'm not making any money off this, so don't sue me.
Author's Notes- This is a strange story told in the second person. It's another "Instant Star" story, I can't help it. There's no real pairing, though I do make implications. As I said, this is rather odd and set far in a mythical future. Well, enjoy!
Summery- You're drawn to her image, full of questions that can't be answered.
Rating- PG
You make your way through the racks of the music store, just browsing, not looking for anything in particular.
You sort through the CDs, trying to see if anything strikes your fancy. Suddenly, one catches your eye and you pick it up to get a better look.
A young woman smiles up at you from the album's cover. She's a mixture of woman and child. There's a sweetness to her, a youthfulness. But at the same time, there's an awareness there that's beyond her years, a glint in her eyes that's all woman.
She's caught forever in that moment. You know that she was only sixteen then, when this album, her first, is released.
You turn it over and read the list of songs, there are some real classics there, songs that still get played twenty years later, and some songs that have been more or less forgotten.
You know them all off by heart. Every word, every nuance. You can play them all on your guitar, have sung them all to your bedroom mirror more times than you'd like to count. You've analyzed the lyrics to each song, wonder what she meant by them.
You turn the CD over again and stare at the cover once more. You know her face as well as you know your own. You know her face, her name, her music, but you've never known her.
Oh, you know things about her. You know that she was discovered at fifteen. That her first album went platinum. That she was considered a great songwriter.
You know that at sixteen she fell in love with her producer. That at eighteen she married him. That he was the inspiration for a lot of her work, or so you're told.
You know that at twenty-one she had a daughter.
You know that she was dead a year later. Killed in a car accident. You're glad that if she had to join the Never Grow Old club of musicians, that she did it that way instead of a way of her own making.
You think that if she died of her own selfishness or carelessness, you would have hated her. Instead, you can hate fate.
You know that her last album, her third, came out a few months after her death. You know that it also went platinum.
But that her first album was considered the best. That there was something raw, something rare in her at the beginning. Something that set her apart from everyone else.
You think of that now, as you hold the CD in your hand. You know all about her, but you never knew her.
You wonder as you look down at her smiling face if she was happy. You wonder if she really loved her husband or if she was just a young stupid girl infatuated with an older man. You wonder if she was as passionate about her music as you've always imagined.
You stand there for a long time, trying to get answers, but they won't come. Finally, you put it back. The CD won't give you the answers.
You look at it one last time. Look at name on the cover.
Jude Harrison. Your mother.
You shake your head and walk away. There are no answers to be found here, only more questions.
The End