Ok guys, I really want to update beating death. I have the update, typed up, I have a few actually typed up since this Remodeling/Moving thing has given me a lot of free time. Since no one knows where things are going, but anyway, I want to update I just can't with no internet, and the way I've been doing these is by putting them onto my phone and then uploading them with my phone internet, but a chapter of Beating Death is too long to do that with. So yeah. The only reason why I've been doing this is because I never finish anything and I think that this challenge for me is just about doing it every day and writing something. For me no matter if people read it or not ya know? Sorry for boing y'all you can continue with your daily lives now.
Song: All in - Artist vs. Poet
"Play it again?" The redhead asked as she scratched my head intently listening to the notes as he played, and repeating them back to him, not even looking at the sheet music, that looked like a jumble of music notes to her.
"You'll never be able to go pro if you can't read music,"
"I..." She sighed. "Hush I do what I want,"
Annoyed, she started to repeat the part again, letting it get engrained in my memory. It had been like this ever since she started playing. He'd play part of it for her, and she'd play it until she got it right, memorized. I was a pro at playing by ear, and at this point she got every note right. It was something I was good at.
"It's true," he said after she was done playing. She shook my head.
"No you'll see," I said to my best friend, someday I'll be famous and on T.V and you'll be wrong."
"Whatever Lema,"
****
"Can You play it?" asked the backstage crew, as we ran around getting ready for the show.
"I got it," Lema Jones said as she pulled her trumpet form the case, she'd been practicing this piece for days, and now that they had to play it on stage, almost two weeks before they were supposed to because of a mix up in the scheduling.
She knew exactly how it went, and She was the only one that wasn't sweating it because of the fact that it was supposed to be memorized.
"We're gonna use you as a cover so play loud, most of it is gonna be improv for those guys so do what you gotta do to keep 'em on track," the stage manager looked at Lema as she took the trumpet out of the case.
"Yes Siree," She said giving him a salute. She could hear the sounds of trumpets and trombones frantically rehearsing to get the music into their heads.
Ha! Alex take that! She mentally slapped myself on the back for being the only one to remember the music. The way She learned it was different, but at least I memorized quickly.
"Alright get out there and do a good job, and maybe someone will sign you," he said to the band that had gotten quiet now. "And make it seem like you actually know what you're doing," he said, "Remember they don't have scores, all they know is that if it sounds good it sounds good, if it doesn't it doesn't so if you mess up don't freak out act like that the blurb was supposed to be there, " the manager chuckled.
"Now get out there and make me proud," he said, as we filed onto the stage.
The performance went well, not amazing, but ok. She could hear the mess ups obvious, from the rest of the band, but all she kept thinking was how much she was proving Alex wrong, he was a great friend back in the day, but these day she was right. She had made it this far, and I had a great band that stood by her no matter what.
After the show a lady came up to Lema, and asked to go get coffee with her, of course feeling like she had no other choice Lema agreed, driving to the coffee shop down the street with her trumpet in the trunk.
"Do you want to be famous, because you have the skill," the woman was very blunt about what she wanted from the college student.
"Who doesn't want to be famous?" Lema asked with a smile on her face, still thinking about her friend who had told her she wouldn't be able to do it.
