Post by Annika~ on Sept 20, 2009 12:09:49 GMT -5
((OOC: BWAHAHAHA
More jokes with myself. Just little bitty details that only make sense to me, mainly.
I'm sorry world D': I swear I didn't mean to make it so cheesy and ripoff-y.
The piano dude is Michael, and the girl is his sister Violet, if I haven't pointed that out a million times already.
now read.))
It was just another one of those nights Gianna couldn't sleep. Her entire family had recurring insomnia, and she was just the next down the line to suffer. It was a Tuesday night, barely halfway through the week. The weekend would save her, as far as she was concerned. Maybe something would happen during the week that would make her eager to go back to school.
Yeah, right.
In the darkness of her room, she groped for the light switch on the wall, close to her bed. She blinked, trying to get her eyes used to the bright light as soon as possible.
Next to her bed was a small table, with the same notebook from the previous night, with the same ballpoint pen. She had shown up home late and hadn't bothered to use it anytime. The book was still opened, and the drawing was a little smudged. She stared at for a while, wanting to reach for the pen and correct his expression, but couldn't. Her hands were shaky and she suddenly felt tired, finally. She shut the notebook, hoping that no one had seen it. That wasn't very likely--no one came into her room except for her and occasionally her father's old cat. She sighed and turned the light back off, and drifted off sooner than usual.
But of course. Usually, Gianna slept soundly without any dreams, but that was different.
It was one of those dreams that Gianna was faintly aware that it wasn't real, it would go away soon, but the unconscious part of her mind wanted it to keep going on.
It was snowy outside, and Gianna found herself standing inside a large parlor, with hardwood floors and large windows. It reminded her, for some reason, of a large house in her Massachusetts surroundings, maybe a century before.
And, of course, there had to be a piano in the corner. Slightly annoyed, Gianna watched as the same man from her sketch walked in, this time actually real. Tense, as always. Hand slightly raised in the air, as always. The image had been in her mind for the entire day, and it irked her how it even had to penetrate into her dreams as well.
But this time, it was different.
He warily walked up to the piano, and sat down. Slowly, and a little clumsily at first, he began to play. Gianna recognized it as Chopin--she had to play and listen to a lot of it during her short time of piano lessons.
A few minutes of the complicated yet soothing music passed before she heard footsteps from the hall, and Gianna saw someone else standing and watching, balancing on the threshold. The girl looked about eleven--lanky, blond, freckled, slowly growing into a teenager. Gianna guessed that she was his younger sister.
She was just watching, hoping he wouldn't notice her, following the pattern of his fingers. It made Gianna dizzy just to watch.
Then, she realized her clock-radio had gone off.
More jokes with myself. Just little bitty details that only make sense to me, mainly.
I'm sorry world D': I swear I didn't mean to make it so cheesy and ripoff-y.
The piano dude is Michael, and the girl is his sister Violet, if I haven't pointed that out a million times already.
now read.))
It was just another one of those nights Gianna couldn't sleep. Her entire family had recurring insomnia, and she was just the next down the line to suffer. It was a Tuesday night, barely halfway through the week. The weekend would save her, as far as she was concerned. Maybe something would happen during the week that would make her eager to go back to school.
Yeah, right.
In the darkness of her room, she groped for the light switch on the wall, close to her bed. She blinked, trying to get her eyes used to the bright light as soon as possible.
Next to her bed was a small table, with the same notebook from the previous night, with the same ballpoint pen. She had shown up home late and hadn't bothered to use it anytime. The book was still opened, and the drawing was a little smudged. She stared at for a while, wanting to reach for the pen and correct his expression, but couldn't. Her hands were shaky and she suddenly felt tired, finally. She shut the notebook, hoping that no one had seen it. That wasn't very likely--no one came into her room except for her and occasionally her father's old cat. She sighed and turned the light back off, and drifted off sooner than usual.
But of course. Usually, Gianna slept soundly without any dreams, but that was different.
It was one of those dreams that Gianna was faintly aware that it wasn't real, it would go away soon, but the unconscious part of her mind wanted it to keep going on.
It was snowy outside, and Gianna found herself standing inside a large parlor, with hardwood floors and large windows. It reminded her, for some reason, of a large house in her Massachusetts surroundings, maybe a century before.
And, of course, there had to be a piano in the corner. Slightly annoyed, Gianna watched as the same man from her sketch walked in, this time actually real. Tense, as always. Hand slightly raised in the air, as always. The image had been in her mind for the entire day, and it irked her how it even had to penetrate into her dreams as well.
But this time, it was different.
He warily walked up to the piano, and sat down. Slowly, and a little clumsily at first, he began to play. Gianna recognized it as Chopin--she had to play and listen to a lot of it during her short time of piano lessons.
A few minutes of the complicated yet soothing music passed before she heard footsteps from the hall, and Gianna saw someone else standing and watching, balancing on the threshold. The girl looked about eleven--lanky, blond, freckled, slowly growing into a teenager. Gianna guessed that she was his younger sister.
She was just watching, hoping he wouldn't notice her, following the pattern of his fingers. It made Gianna dizzy just to watch.
Then, she realized her clock-radio had gone off.