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Post by Adam Trumper on May 3, 2008 0:13:00 GMT -5
It was around six in the evening as Adam played his guitar. Not many people were around, he scanned around the street. Most likely, everybody was eating dinner or they were in their homes. He glanced down at the case he carried his guitar in, there were only a few coins in it. Not as much as he usually earned. Usually he earned about fifty cents a day. Maybe more, maybe less. It depended on his mood that day, and how that would affect the music. Sometimes his moods were good, sometimes they were bad.
Today, however, wasn't as good as the usual day. Just because he wasn't able to sleep the past night. The nightmares of his past were taunting him, especially when he found Rose dead. That image would forever play in his mind, her lifeless body on the ground. Her pale skin even paler, the warmth she gave off was gone.
No Adam pulled himself out of his thoughts, the more he thought about it the more it scared him. He let out a shaky breath as he began to play a slower song that he loved. Sometimes he sang along with his songs, sometimes he didn't. Again, it depended on his mood that day. Today, maybe singing could heal his broken heart and soul.
With every motion, there's an ocean of emotion. Understanding all you are, and all I am. I can be patient, there's a grace in the courageous way that you take your every step. The best you can. In the silence I hear the sound of your heart,
And in the pages that have been torn from every song"
He scrunched up his face, maybe singing wouldn't help.
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Post by Sarah Jacobs on May 3, 2008 14:39:21 GMT -5
Sarah smiled as she stepped out of the apartment. These were the moments she lived for. The moments where she could step out of her apartment and into a new world. It was like stepping through a picture into a whole different world. A place longing to be discovered. Sarah inhaled deeply.
Today she was going to be adventurous. Today she was going somewhere she has never been. A few moments later, Sarah found herself in Bronx, in the park. She wandered around, happy for new things to look at.
Suddenly, she heard a low singing voice to the left of her. There was a young man playing the guitar and singing. Sarah smiled and made her way to wards him. It was a slow, almost depressing song. Sarah loved it. She took a quarter from her purse and put it down in his guitar case and continued to watch as he played.
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Post by Adam Trumper on May 3, 2008 15:02:25 GMT -5
Adam gave the young girl who gave him a quater a grateful smile. That should at least pay for a meal for him, maybe tonight he could eat. He continued to play as she continued to watch. That wasn't something out of the ordinary, people who paid usually stood there and watched until he finished and then they went about their business. He didn't mind, he loved having an audience. He loved being able to show off, he loved being able to perform his talent.
His eyes glazed over as he continued to play. Sadness flooded over him as he realized, this was Rose's favorite song. She would always run up to him and say, "Adam, play my song for me!" He would always smile and then kiss her tenderly before he played her song. He missed Rose, her personality, and how much she loved him. He missed her love, her spontaneous kisses and how she would run her fingers through his hair to relax him. Nobody was there to love him anymore, nobody cared about him anymore.
He strummed the final chords of the song, and watched to see what the young girl would do. Would she walk away like the others, or would she stay and continue to listen?
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Post by Sarah Jacobs on May 3, 2008 23:23:56 GMT -5
Sarah smiled back. He had a beautiful smile, but it held a sadness in it. Sarah knew that smile. A smile that tried to be real and happy, but was so filled with sorrow and pain that it wasn't really a smile. Sarah's face held that smile a lot. She understood how he was feeling. True, she didn't know what exactly was going on, but she could tell something was.
He continued to play and Sarah continued to watch. What a wonderful talent! Sarah wished she knew how to do something other than sewing. She'd always wanted to learn how to sing or dance. After going to that vaudeville performance with Jack, Sarah longed to move like Medda moved or sound like she did. It was a whole different world for Sarah, something she'd never known existed.
His last note lingered in the air, finishing the song. Sarah hung on to that last note, wanting more. Before she knew it, she was clapping. A huge grin was on her face as she approached him. "That was beautiful..." She stated simply.
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Post by Adam Trumper on May 3, 2008 23:38:26 GMT -5
Adam continued to play. His calloused fingertips continued to pluck and strum the strings. Playing his guitar was another world to him, and he loved it. He had gathered an audience by now, a mother with her children, two girls that were giggling and cooing. Over what, he would never know. And the young girl, who was smiling. He shook his bangs out of his eyes without hindering his performance.
He wished he could have the relaxation he once had back. He didn't want to harm his health more by trying to get it back from the drugs. He bit his lower lip, trying not to give into the temptation. This has been an ongoing struggle ever since he quit. It seemed like they were calling to him every since he quit, he had to continue to say no everytime. Maybe that could help him earn a backbone.
"That was beautiful..."
After he finished the song, everybody except for the young girl walked away. She walked up to him and complimented his music. He smiled, and nodded humbly. "Thank you, I appreciate you watching and paying. It means a lot." He replied.
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Post by Sarah Jacobs on May 5, 2008 23:37:43 GMT -5
"Thank you, I appreciate you watching and paying. It means a lot."
Sarah smiled, encouraged by his politeness. It seemed to her as if people had lost their politeness lately. Everywhere she went, people either scoffed at her or just ignored her. It was refreshing to meet a nice person every once and awhile. "It really was wonderful... You're very talented." She smiled once more.
Sarah stepped closer, longing for a good talk. "Do you do this for a living?" Sarah couldn't help but look down at his guitar case. Besides her quarter, there were only a few coins. She sighed, suddenly grateful for all the things she had. She never realized how blessed she was until she saw other people and their struggles.
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Post by Adam Trumper on May 5, 2008 23:45:39 GMT -5
"It really was wonderful... You're very talented."
Adam was flattered by all of the compliments he has received just in the past weeks. People were actually taking notice of his talent, it made him feel good. Better than he's felt in a long time. That was one thing he had to thank Rose for, was helping his music career take off. "Thank you, I appreciate that." He replied, humbly. He knew not to take compliments to his head, that would end very badly for him. He was just raised like that, his mother told him to be very humble when he would receive a compliment. And he has tried to take her advice to heart. The only time he has ever gotten 'egotistical' would've been when he was with Rose.
"Do you do this for a living?"
He nodded, "Yes, but its a living. At least I'm doing what I love, that's all I can ask for." He replied. He did want to make a name for himself, but not yet. Not now. It was too soon for him to do so. He didn't want to perform at a theatre, in Chicago those addicted to drugs would hang out around there. So he wanted to stay far, far away from any theatre. It was just too risky.
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Post by Sarah Jacobs on May 11, 2008 21:43:35 GMT -5
"Thank you, I appreciate that."
Sarah simply nodded and smiled. When Sarah got complimented over and over again, it was annoying. It also was embarrassing. Sarah knew the feeling when you just want people to shut up. You wished they would just get the point.
"Yes, but its a living. At least I'm doing what I love, that's all I can ask for."
Sarah smiled reassuringly and nodded. "I understand. I would rather do what I love and be poor than do what I hate and be rich..." Sarah always wondered how young girls could sell their bodies. Sure, they would have plenty of money, but they would also be miserable. What kind of life was that?
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Post by Adam Trumper on May 11, 2008 21:56:32 GMT -5
Adam returned her smile, not really knowing what else to say. He was grateful for the compliments, and grateful that she didn't continue complimenting him. It was nice, but he didn't know how to take it. He was just a struggling musician trying to forget his past. Somehow, that didn't work very well.
"I understand. I would rather do what I love and be poor than do what I hate and be rich..."
He nodded, "Me too. It doesn't pay much, but it gives me clothes on my back and food." He didn't have to pay rent because he lived in an abandoned building that looked it would collapse any second. It was pretty sturdy though, and it was free as long as no one found out he lived there. Maybe once he saved up enough he could buy an apartment. But he had to get back on his feet first.
"So you know what I do for a living, what about you?" He asked.
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Post by Sarah Jacobs on May 28, 2008 21:20:30 GMT -5
"Me too. It doesn't pay much, but it gives me clothes on my back and food."
Sarah smiled and nodded. She believed that if you had that then you were blessed. Even if you worked twice as hard as the next person, you still were blessed. There are people that are working three times as hard as you are, yet they don't even have the simple necessities of life. Then there were the few people that didn't even have to work for their food. Some would think this was how Sarah lived, but they were so wrong. She went to work everyday, and, yes, it wasn't hard work like David's, but it was tiring all the same. Sarah worked for what she had and she was proud of that fact. "And that is all you really need," she added, not really thinking about what she was saying.
"So you know what I do for a living, what about you?"
Sarah grimaced at his words. Whenever someone asked her this, she hesitated. She was a factory worker. One of the lowest jobs you can have. Some would say that a newsie was even lower, but Sarah didn't agree. At least newsies had freedom. They chose when they wanted to work, how they wanted to work, and where they wanted to work. They got to run around in the sunshine and be with friends. Whereas, Sarah had to work with people she hated. They chose her hours. They chose what she wears. She was locked in a factory, which was dark and smelly. But she wasn't about to hide how she made money for her family. "I'm a factory worker," she replied, shrugging. She wasn't ashamed of what she did for a living, but she was disappointed that she didn't have a better job.
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