a-verigoodblog

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Over the Years

When Gwen was five, she asked her mother why she had to dance. She didn't like it, the teacher was mean and strict. Her mom didn't care

When she was six, she went to her grandmas house and saw a piano in the corner

By the time Gwen was seven, her grandma gave the piano to her and was teaching her how to play the black and white keys.

When she was eight, she told her mother she was quitting dance. She still played piano.

When Gwen was nine, her parents split up and her grandmother died. She still played the piano.

When she was ten, she went out with her auntie and sister to a music store. She loved it. By this time, she knew everything about the piano.

When Gwen was eleven, she joined school band and played in percussion and the flute. Her mother didn't like it. Her little sister did.

When she was twelve, she asked her mother for her first drum kit. Her mom wasn't pleased. Gwen wasn't surprised. She thanked her auntie when she got her one.

When she was thirteen, she'd gotten into honor band. Her drum skills were good and she got a ukulele for her birthday. Her teacher said she was a natural.

When Gwen was thirteen, her auntie moved away and she felt like a disappointment to her mother. She still played the piano.

When she was fourteen, she wanted a change and dyed her hair a light shade of blue. She also found writing her feelings in her notebook made her feel better.

When Gwen was fourteen, she'd saved up enough money to by herself a trumpet. Her band teacher told her she was a musician. She'd never heard that before.

When she was fifteen, her blue hair faded and she re dyed it cotton candy pink. Her mother told her she was a disappointment. She meant a doe eyed blonde girl named Julie with an angelic singing voice.

When Gwen was fifteen, her mother found the amount of instruments she played ridiculous. She ignored her and still played. She'd already filled hundreds of notebook pages with her feelings.

When Gwen was sixteen, she'd become best friends with Julie. Julie had a really nice family. She found the drums is her favorite one of Gwen's many instruments she played.

When she was sixteen, her little sister was the apple of her mothers eye and she found herself the forgotten child. She spent most of her time and Julie's house anyway.

When Gwen was seventeen, she dyed her hair yellow and green. She joined show band and  liked performing on stage. She had 15 notebooks filled with her feelings. Julie's mother told her she was given the gift of playing music, she liked Julie's mother. Mostly because, she was better then her own.

When Gwen was seventeen, her mother tried to kick her out of her own house. Her mom was happy that she was turning eighteen soon, so her disappointment of a daughter would leave. That's what Gwen thought. Then, she regretted quitting dance all those years ago.

When Gwen was eighteen, she questioned her sexuality. She'd always thought she was straight, but Julie was pretty. And her heart hammering in her chest and butterflies in her stomach and a million other things pointed to the counterpart.

When she was eighteen, she dyed her hair a lavender purple and got a full ride scholarship to a prestigious music school in California. By then, her drums were her main focus.

When Gwen was eighteen, the summer before she went off to college, she was going through her room, packing things. She already had all her instruments ready to go, the small ones anyway (the drums were a lot harder to pack) Gwen was going through her clothes when she tipped off balance and bumped (into what she thought) was her desk. She'd turned around, clutching her side when she realized that it was not her desk, but the piano her grandmother had given her so many years ago.

She pulled off the sheet which revealed a rather dusty old black and white keys. She swallowed the lump in her throat when a million memories came rushing back to her in an instant. The last time she played it her mother had yelled at her for being too loud...

[a-verigoodblog]

Now That She’s Gone - a short blurb

Beatrice Howard wiped a tear from her eye as she sat in the rusty old metal chair on the waxed gymnasium floor. In front of her, dozens of more rows of the same chairs as her sat many more students. Some she knew, most she didn't. Beatrice wasn't focused on the loud booming voice of the principal bouncing off the walls, she was focused on looking at everyone's faces, seeing her fellow peers reaction to the death. Some had straight looks on their faces, others were shedding a tear or two, and some of them, few of them, looked as if they didn't even want to be here. It was at Kymme Collins’ memorial service, a couple days after her death. Beatrice's best friend.

She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to be anywhere. She didn't want to face reality- the the one person she could tell anything to was dead. All Beatrice wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up and everything would be okay. How could someone take such an amazing person away from the world, she had thought. Then again, everything happens for a reason, at least she had hoped so.