The Silenced Souls [Editing Process]

Preface

Note from the Author

I hope you enjoy the following story. If you're working outside home, please be careful. If you're staying indoors, sit back, relax, and watch or read something good.

Oh, almost forgot to add something to this.

The lyrics of songs written throughout the following story are original, (some are merely borrowed for the story) and belong to its rightful owners, including me, and my good friend David. (Thank you David!)

If you want to use said original lyrics mentioned (not the ones borrowed) the ones belonging to my friend and I, please ask first.

Plagiarism is not cool.

Yours truly, A. R Silver

A week before

"Thank you ... Come again."

"You could try to at least pretend you give a shit about this job, Miss Wood."

A young woman looked up from the comic strip on a random newspaper she had been reading on the counter next to the cash register, and tucked a brown strand of hair behind her ear. "You know what, Mrs. Peters?"

The old lady with those beady little eyes, deep wrinkles, and graying hair snorted, settling for a glare. "Let's not start this again, Wood."

The young woman shrugged, and smirked. "What? All I was going to say was go suck a cock."

Mrs. Peters broke into small, scattered laughs. "Oh and I did. I was great at it too."

Miss Wood snorted, but chuckled, shaking her head. "Jesus, Mrs. Peters."

"Don't drag Christ into it, please."

Helpless, she threw up her arms and slapped them down on her thighs. "Listen to me, okay. I need to do some important things. Can I clock the fuck out already? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

Mrs. Peters sat down at one of the tables in her quaint restaurant, and drummed her red nails on it. "I know you've been working hard on this demo of yours for nearly three weeks now, and honestly, it sounds perfect."

"Thanks to Astrid." Miss Wood reminded her.

Mrs. Peters rolled her eyes.

Astrid was her granddaughter, a lesbian, and Miss Wood's best friend.

For one gross reason or another, her granny didn't trust Miss Wood around her granddaughter Astrid.

Time and again, the two young women both had to keep reminding her that not all lesbians are attracted to every single woman out there.

Not even a best friend who's known her since swings and slides times.

Ya don't go and kiss your best friend just 'cause, unless you're attracted to her, or if you're unsure of your own sexuality.

Common fucking sense.

"Astrid hasn't-"

"Damn it all, Mrs Peters! For the hundred and twentieth time, my pussy is not of her preference! Moving on, please?" She moaned.

"Okay, okay." She conceded. "Let's say you present R. J with this. What then? Can you trust him? The last time you gave that other bastard $450 just so he could vouch for you and present your demo, you got played."

Miss Wood sighed, and walked out of the counter, pulling her straight brown hair into a ponytail.

"I know. Big fat difference is this man doesn't want my money. All he did was ramble about talent, and hard work."

"Great, but you might want to work on being more ... Approachable. Maybe you should fix that raccoon look of yours."

Yet another insult to the way Miss Wood did her eyeliner. "Whatever. The point here is, he's from that talent agency in L.A, and ..."

"You know that Reno is well known for its multitude of gambling joints, Kristen."

"Oh, I'm Kristen now?"

"Don't be smart with me. He's just here to waste his money away, which is possibly less than what he's bragged about."

She bit her lip. "I sure could use those three million bucks."

Mrs. Peters stood, dragging the chair behind her, and literally got in her face, poking her forehead with her long red nail.

"Don't be naive, and listen to me. Your time will come, but beware of all the liars and fakes."

Miss Wood nodded once, and dramatically closed her eyes. "Wisdom adhered. May I go now?"

She dropped her stiff shoulders and reluctantly let her employee clock out. The place was empty anyway.

* * * * *

Kristen Wood walked down the street with her hands in her pockets, listening to Beyoncé's new album through her worn headphones.

It was darkening, and all the street lights turned on at once.

Off in the distance, colorful bright lights, senseless noise, laughter, and police sirens echoed in the distance.

Kristen detested gambling, she really did.

She wouldn't go there even if it very unlikely meant that she'd win a whopping ten thousand, and pay off some of that college debt.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

She checked, and smiled expectantly.

Hey bitch. We have a setback. Heard from one of the guys that R. J changed his mind and flew back to L. A. I'm really sorry. I know how much you wanted this.

Tears fell down her  face almost immediately.

After all the trouble Astrid had gone through for her, creating the melody with me, helping her write the lyrics.

All for nothing.

She wanted to go inside a bar and pass out, but she knew for a fact she couldn't waste the tiny bit of money she had.

Studying music and getting a degree in it had been nothing but pointless.

What the fuck was the point.

She continued to wipe her face, because the tears stubbornly refused to stop falling, and by now she was sure her un-waterproof mascara was making her face look like hell.

Digging her left hand into her pocket, to her delight she stumbled upon her lighter and the few cigarettes she had left.

She took one out, put it to her mouth, and lit it, quickly inhaling the nicotine.

She held it there for as long as she could manage, and allowed the whisper of a smoke fade into the cool night.