Snippets 2

Melanie Ezell

Another pair of short pieces, unconnected but too short to really post on their own. Hope you like 'em!

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-The Ivory Bangle-

It was a beautiful object to look at, Darren thought as he turned the clunky piece of jewelry over and over in his hands. The intricate engravings covering the creamy surface depicted a flowing flower and vines motif, and the weight felt comforting in his hands. But why had his grandmother willed it to him, of all people?

Darren had loved his grandmother dearly. Of all the grandchildren on his father's side of the family, he had been her favorite, or at least so she claimed when the two of them were alone together on the frequent occasions he had made his way to the home to visit her. He had suspected this had only been her loneliness talking since hardly any of the rest of the family ever seemed to visit her, but it still made him feel special. He always loved talking to her, listening to her tales of world war two, growing up during war time, and how different things had been as a teenager in the fifties than they were now. She always had a story about his father to tell him as well, giving him the sense of having known the man despite the fact that he had died shortly after Darren was born.

He was the only grandchild at her funeral, and it had hurt him deeply to see that he was one of only a handful of relatives to show up at all. The will reading had been a different matter all together, however, with every member of the family showing up to claim any piece of her estate they could get their hands on. Much of what she had owned went to her children, as was to be expected, but the only other person to receive anything was Darren. He had been surprised to receive anything at all, and per her wishes had held off from opening the wooden box he had been handed until he was alone. Once in his car, he had removed the decorative lid to find the bangle sitting there, wrapped in black velvet. She had worn this every day, as far as he could remember, and the significance of the gift touched him deeply.

Darren felt the hot tears burning his eyes again as he thought of her, and absently lifted his arm to wipe his face, knocking the box to the floorboards of his car. He cursed himself as he bent down to retrieve it, to find that the velvet had fallen out, uncovering an envelope taped to the bottom of the box, with 'Darren' written across its face in bold letters. Carefully, he removed the note from within, and began to read.

'Dear Darren,

Grandma Patty'

Darren smiled through the tears after reading the letter, and carefully folded it before returning it to the envelope. Replacing the note and velvet within the box, he ran his fingers over the bangle before placing it inside as well and closing the lid. He started the car and slowly pulled out of the parking lot of the lawyer's office, making his way home. He had much to prepare for. He would take his grandmother's advice, and live to make himself happy.

And he had a dress at home that would match the bangle perfectly.

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-Blues-

People come from miles around to hear her. Every weekend she does two sets, both to packed houses, and always performed in the same perfect style.

The lights dim, and she steps forwards from the back. Mickey at the piano, Fry with his steel guitar, and Serena on the drums are all in spotlight, wearing their customary white suits, but she prefers to start her shows in the darkness. With the opening wailing riff on the guitar, the lounge goes quiet, and the show begins. Swaying from side to side, she moves to the music, her silhouette undulating across the stage. After the first few bars, the crowd is set, and she begins to sing in her deep, breathy voice. Today she has chosen to open with 'Stormy Monday'. "They call it Stormy Monday; but Tuesday's just as bad..."

As the crowd is absorbed by the music, the lights on stage slowly begin to rise in intensity. The sparkle of her silver dress draws the eyes to her, and every night there are gasps from the crowd as guests see her for the first time. Her six foot four frame is intimidating to behold, with her broad shoulders putting the lie to her feminine appearance. Yet none would dare call the creature before them, pouring her heart into the words of the song she sings, anything other than a woman. With tears in her eyes she wails into the microphone before her, and the crowd feels the pain of the music. Her voice, so powerful, is like a siren song, drawing them in and seducing even the hardiest of spirits. They love her, and she loves them. She moves on, bringing just as much spirit into her performance of 'Let's Go Get Stoned'. The sweat pours off her dark skin as she gives it her all, song after song, and at the end of the night, the crowd claps and begs for more. She always gives an encore.

After her performance is finished, she walks into the crowd around the stage and makes her way to the bar. Those who had been cheering for her a moment before part to let her through, some in reverence, others in fear. The bartender always has her drink ready, and she always drinks it in silence. Despite her performance, no customer dares talk to the menacing figure she cuts when off the stage. Were they to, they would find someone caring and compassionate, who appreciates their company and loves to talk. But none ever try. As Mickey, Fry, and Serena finish packing up and approach the bar for their own drinks, they are surrounded by customers applauding their performance and offering to buy them drinks or something more. They pass her a pitying glance as they mingle, but make no effort to join her in her solitude.

At the end of the night, she goes home alone.

Every weekend, she sings the blues. Every week, she lives them. Soon she will know the blues so well, she will have no need to perform at all.

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