Prompt: #10 Breathe Again
Word Count: 579
Rating: K
Authoress notes: I know I've been lacking in updates, and I'm truly sorry for that. I have a lot of ideas for the prompts; it's just a matter of getting them down.
This drabble is based on my own band, and how I remember November 10th, 2007, as my own band shattered all of our previous records, with a second place finish with a score of 97, the highest we've ever placed in the history of my school.
And while I miss the 2007 season with passion, what with all that happened during it, I am eagerly and impatiently awaiting the start of our 2008.
If you care to see my band's performance, check out my profile. I'll have a link up before I get around to posting this, most likely.
I guess this is part one of a two-shot, mostly because there's another prompt I want to use this night as a basis for, so I'll get going on that one as soon as I finish up with this. It will also further explain about Ethan Gladstone…
The crowd was roaring, swelling to its feet as the famous Oak Point Marching Band approached its climatic ending of their 2007 field show for the last time.
The guard poured out all of their emotion into the final sixty-four counts of work, as they had been doing for the entire show. Making the transition from intensive and focused, to compassionate and caring, to fun and upbeat had required every breath in their body, as they preformed their emotions up to the audience and the press box, where inside its heated interior sat the judges who would decide what place they were going to receive, if they were going to beat the long-time champion or not.
The winds literally became one with their instrument, pouring every single breath into the object that had been the focus of most of their life. Concentrating on the music they could play in their sleep, they executed their complicated final drill movements to arrive at their final moment.
Popping up the instruments.
A dizzying combination of moves that spun the turquoise flag around and up into the air.
Blasting the audience with a wall of sound.
Stepping in front of their airborne flag and striking a final pose.
The entire band screamed as one as soon as their instruments left their mouths, leaving one last aerial effect for the audience to remember as they filed into their lines and marched off the field to the cadence, shakily breathing as their adrenaline high wore off.
The guard raced to collect the hundred-plus flags and twenty or so rifles before they went over the time limit and cost the band their rightful place.
Hurriedly dropping their equipment in a pile by the gate, the guard ran to meet up with the band for the pictures.
Never mind that it was after midnight, never mind that it had been a long and exhausting day, there were still people chatting excitedly, after they had caught their breaths from the intensive show.
Emma, dressed now in her purple warm up suit (Why purple? Their school's colors weren't even purple!) and still freezing, desperately wishing she had some hand warmers or a hot chocolate or…him to warm her up.
Under the pretense of listening to Kathy, she let her brown eyes travel past her shoulder to the guy sitting next to her, debating something with Blaine as their rival band filled in the rest of the stands next to them.
Ethan Gladstone.
For a second he turned to look at her, making the briefest of eye contact before standing up with the rest of the bands as the drum majors and seniors of all the group three bands began to make their way across the field.
She felt her breath catch in her chest, belatedly scrambling up and having to grab onto Kathy for balance.
The entire band held their breath as the last twenty places were announced, the judges starting with the lowest and working their way up.
They had slightly relaxed as the thirteenth place was announced, reminded of their placing last year, but tensed right up again as the tenth position was announced.
Standing tall, their instruments held tightly to their sides, they waited with baited breath as the judges began to announce the top five group three bands on the Atlantic Coast, on that cold November night, the clock ticking away the minutes past midnight…
Waiting for the moment they could breathe again…
A/N: Yes, I know I'm evil. But I have a plan for all of this. Don't worry; I'll follow this up soon with the second part, a semi-songfic.