24) Pick a song, a favorite or completely at random and use a line of the lyrics as a title of a short story. Write about whatever the lyrics bring to mind.
So, here’s some lyrics and songs that I just really like right now, followed by the story.
“I’m not evil to the core
What I shouldn’t do I will fight
I know I’m emotional
What I wanna save I will try
I know who I truly am
I truly do have a chance
Tomorrow I’ll switch the beat
To avoid yesterday’s dance”
Sometimes you’ve got to bleed to know,
That you’re alive and have a soul,
But it takes someone to come around to show you how.
A loser hides behind a mask of my disguise,
And who I am today is worse than other times,
You don’t know what I’ve done, I’m wanted and on the run.
I’m wanted and on the run.
So I’m taking this moment to live in the future
Release me from the present,
I’m obsessing all these questions,
Why I’m in denial that they tried the suicidal session,
Please use discretion when you’re messing with the message, man,
These lyrics aren’t for everyone, only few understand.
Had a voice, had a voice, but I could not sing
I watched as she crossed the room, heading for the bar in the corner. She was still dressed in her work clothes but as she stood in front of the bar she peeled her heels off, rubbing her feet gently while contemplating her options. She chose a martini glass and a bottle of Grey Goose. As she poured the vodka she took a deep breath, lost in thought, tired. She sipped the drink before adding vermouth and an olive from the mini fridge. I fidgeted a little, scratching an itch. She didn’t say anything.
She left the room, leaving her drink half consumed on the bar before returning in sweatpants and a hoodie. Looking relieved to be out of her suit, she grabbed the drink and sat down on the couch. She scanned for the remote and, not finding it, started to mumble under her breath. I caught snatches, like “I can’t believe he still…” and “I should finally just” and “Where the fuck?” She scrunched her face up as she reached between the couch cushions, looking at the ceiling as she fumbled around blindly, though finally coming up with the remote.
As she sat back down she let out a deep breath, looked at the floor for a moment, then reached for her drink. She looked over at me and said, “He just frustrates me so much sometimes. And I feel like I’m invisible to him you know?” I knew. He very often disappeared as soon as he got home and was closed off when they were together. They both had their issues. Her sister had died a year before due to a freak post-op infection, and it had devastated her. Losing one of the people she was closest to shook her belief in the world to the core, so she had been sad and grieving. He didn’t know how to help. She didn’t know what he could do. So distance grew between them, each protecting themselves from pain as best they could.
I heard the front door open and close. She looked at the TV, unflinching. He went into the bedroom and didn’t come out for a while. Once he resurfaced he was wearing comfy jeans and an old tee. He looked around but didn’t say anything for a minute.
“I miss you,” he said, not looking at her. She looked at him skeptically.
“What? Where is this coming from?” she asked.
“It’s been too long,” he said, “and we need to do something or I’m afraid we won’t bend, we’ll break.” She looked at her drink, furrowing her brow, nodding so slightly it might have been my imagination.
“I didn’t know how to get out of the grief, but I love you, that is my priority. I feel better now that some time has passed. The pain will never go away but my life can go on now, I think.” She paused to collect her next thought. Looking over at him she said, “I miss you too.”
He walked over to her and pulled her up off the couch. Running a hand along the side of her face and looking in her eyes, he pulled her close to him and kissed her cheek. Then he leaned back, looked at her again, and said, “We can do this. You are my family.” She kissed him then, running her hands around his lower back. They just stood embraced for a couple minutes, then he said, “What do you think Libby?”
He looked at me, walked over to my cage, opened the door and let me hop on his finger. I shook my feathers and sang my love song.