Cheyenne's POV:
From outside the blackness I hear it. The most wonderful voice I had ever heard. I cannot name the person who creates such an amazing series of sounds with their mouth, lungs, heart, and soul. I let the music consume me. The language I best speak, understand more than I understand my own existence, fills me up.
"Just a small town girl
Livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train
Goin' anywhere
Just a city boy
Born and raised in South Detroit
He took the midnight train
Goin' anywhere" His sweet, perfect voice is better than Steve Perry, of Journey, even had sung this song. I let the lyrics of Don't Stop Believing consume every fiber of my being.
"A singer in a smokey room
A smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on
Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching
In the night
Streetlights, people
Livin' just to find emotion
Hidin' somewhere in the night
Workin' hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin' anything to roll the dice
Just one more time
Some will win
Some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on" The voice continues with great accuracy, to belt out each note. I think of what my family is doing, how they could be dead right now, and I wouldn't know. At first, this troubles me, but I let the music once again overpower my own thoughts.
"Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching
In the night
Streetlights, people
Livin' just to find emotion
Hidin' somewhere in the night
Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feelin'
Streetlights, people
Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feelin'
Streetlights, people"
The song ends, and I realize who it was singing. He cannot stop singing. I just needed to hear him keep up this fragile communication he had given to me with anyone else, by singing one song. Too soon, he thinks he shall leave. How had he even managed to come? Was I not dead? Or was this supposed to be my own, personal h*ll? This could never be a heavan to me. . . .
Instead of his voice coninueing, I hear the speeding beeps of a heart monitor beside me. As the rustling of someone packing up dies, I feel a part of me do the same. My last thought before the blackness takes over again is that he couldn't leave, not again. Why would he leave? Shane had been my only anchor in this sea of black . . .
YOU ARE READING
The Sound of Their Presence
Ficção AdolescenteCheyenne is a normal girl. Aside from her little family secret that involves turning into a unicorn under certain circumstances. Shane is a normal boy. Aside from the fact that he is a unicorn hunter. When the two of them meet, duty could get in the...
