Author's Notes: I wrote this story a while ago, back at the end of April, but I wasn't allowed to put it on here because of copyright purposes... something like that. It was entered for a competition by a local newspaper and we finally got the results for it, so I'm hoping that that means the story can be put up now. If not.. ah well. Anyway, this story was originally planned to be a novella or a novel, but I had to cut down on some ideas and plots to make it work as a short story. I might extend the story or write it again as a novella, but I'm not sure yet. Enjoy!!

You stop and wonder at this moment in time
This long journey, not yet the end, nor the start
Look back and see what paths you took
Stare straight and find which road to choose
We have different challenges
Different metaphors
Life really has their balances
Same things in our hearts

“And when we go, far ahead…” Pausing on his words, a young fifteen-year-old boy ran a hand across his dark brown hair and pursed his lips slightly before nodding to himself. He took up the cheap biro pen beside him and jotted the words down, trying to form another song for his so-called future band. “When we, understand…” He drummed his fingers on the edge of the hard-back Lord of the Rings book which served as a place to rest the sheet of printout paper on. “Not good enough…” He sighed.

Putting his acoustic guitar to the side, Ruben yawned and set the book, pen and lyrics on top of his desk, stretching his muscles as he did so. Upon glancing at the clock, he realised that two hours had gone past since he sat down on his bed with his guitar to work on the lyrics. At least he got four lines down for that song today – it was an improvement, and for him, time very well spent. Sure, Ruben would love nothing more than to perhaps complete the song today, but inspiration never came to him, no matter what he decided to listen to. It was the first song he tried to write, and though the tune for it stayed in his mind, the words would not form, and he found it easier to start newer songs and newer tunes at times.

Another yawn escaped his lips and he grabbed the remote beside him and turned on the stereo. At once, his favourite song of What I’ve Done by Linkin Park blasted out from the speakers and Ruben closed his eyes, concentrating on the lyrics, drums, electric piano, and guitars separately in his mind. To him, the song was inspirational as well as calming, but he had others on his list to keep him motivated to the world of music. “Forgiving what I’ve done…” He finished, switching the stereo off.

“Cool song.” Ruben commented as his best friend Sara hit the off button to her mp3 player, ending the song of Time Out! by Zero Tolerance that they were listening to earlier. She took the earphones from his hand and wrapped them around her fingers as Ruben tried to recall the lyrics again. “Actually, it’s more than cool.” He continued. “It’s absolutely amazing.”

“I knew it would make you breathless. Sounds like something you’d like.” Sara shrugged, leaning back. “I thought that it might inspire a few more songs for you, you know? You really should set up your own band or something like that. You’ve got the talent for it. Lyric-wise anyway.” She smiled.

“I like any music as long as the lyrics are decent.” Ruben answered. “And I think we’ve had that argument before. I’m not thinking of putting all those lyrics out yet. It’s just a hobby.”

“Hobby gone to waste, if you’re not going to do anything about your talent.” She scoffed.

With a slight laugh, Ruben nudged her between the ribs. “It’s personal.” He defended.

They were sitting under a tree not far from the school building – a usual place for them to hang around during lunchtimes and sometimes, after school. It wasn’t much of a big tree with branches to climb on, but it was as peaceful as they could get; away from the mob of their peers who were always running around playing football or even just walking in groups with their mobile phones on full blast. In fact, the only special thing about the tree was the thin roots that were mainly visible above the grass and dirt, which also served as some sort of bench to sit on.

Nobody said that luxury was needed to enjoy something.

“And you think that everyone’s lives aren’t personal to them? Come on, Rube, you can make a difference with the sort of crap you come up with in your songs.” Sara insisted. She couldn’t remember just how many times they’ve had this argument before – probably since she learned that he was a lyric-writer about four months ago. Since that was known, they spent more private time together, for the simple reason that they both wanted to talk about the subject, but wanted nobody else to know what it was.

Ruben sighed, defeated. He always lost in these fights, but in the end, Sara never won his confidence. “And what about you? Your stories? You said you want to be a writer, right? I haven’t seen you do anything yet.”

“But I enter competitions. I’m opening up in that sense.” Sara pointed out. “Oh, which reminds me. You’d probably fall off the planet when you see what I got from an online friend of mine…” She trailed off, shrugging her dark blue backpack from her shoulders. As Ruben raised his eyebrows with curiosity, Sara ripped the zip open and looked through the many books that were in her bag, spending about three minutes before finally taking out a white sheet of paper in between the pages of her maths book. “Krapniknil told me about it. I printed this off for you yesterday. Please say you’ll enter.” She said, handing it to him.

With a small laugh, Ruben leaned his back against the tree and looked at the printout paper. Sara pressed her lips together as she tried to read his full expression, and was surprised when she saw the emotion that presented itself on his face not two seconds later.

Krapniknil has just signed on

Musicizmylife: So… you there or what?
Krapniknil: I’m here.
Musicizmylife: I got your PM like an hour ago. What’s up?
Krapniknil: You said that you have a friend who’s a lyric writer, yes?
Musicizmylife: Uh huh, best one around. His music is like… epic.
Krapniknil: Well, my brother was given this flyer that he might like – it’s funny because when I read it, I instantly thought about your friend, even though I’ve never seen what his stuff is like.
Krapniknil: Anyway,
Musicizmylife: If you read his work, you’d be amazed. He really is good.
Musicizmylife: I wanna show you some of his stuff. I have ‘em all at me now, but he made me swear never to let anyone read it.
Krapniknil: Damn enter key…
Krapniknil: Anyway, I was about to say. Black Moon’s holding a competition. A lyric competition and the first place will win a performance by them with the lyrics. All credit will go to the lyric writer, and they’ll get a set percentage on all the profit and stuff, but I expect it’s nothing much. It’s more like… a dream and the fame they might get.
Krapniknil: The competition is limited for their fans, of course. It’s just something that they wanted to do for the fun of it, I suppose.
Musicizmylife: Jeez… are you serious?
Krapniknil: Yep.
Musicizmylife: Rube loves their music. Said that their lyrics are fantastic, especially that one called… “Take It Away”, something like that.
Krapniknil: That one’s awesome.
Musicizmylife: So yeah, can you give me the details?
Krapniknil: Sure. Deadline is in two weeks, and I know it’s short, but I haven’t seen my brother in a while and he was the one who told me. Submit the lyrics via post, and you can give in your own vocal solo if you want to just give the tune in if you can’t do music sheets. Lyrics must be their own work, and all that sort of usual stuff, and if he wants, more detail can be found on their website.
Musicizmylife: That’s awesome. I’ll let him know a.s.a.p.
Krapniknil: Good luck.

Musicizmylife has just signed off

“Rube? Hey, Rube? You with me here?” Sara slapped her friend gently on the face, grabbing his attention immediately. He blinked a few times before shaking his head sheepishly.

“Sorry. Yeah… I’m not going to enter.” Ruben answered, handing the printed sheet back.

Sara was about to grab the sheet back when she realised that her hand refused to move any further. “You… what? Are you nuts? Rube, you must enter this!” She cried out, almost too loudly for Ruben’s liking. A few heads turned their way from the students nearby, but none really knew what they were talking about without looking at the sheet, so they went back to their business seconds later, muttering light curses under their breath.

Ruben only managed a light shrug, finding it perfectly acceptable to choose what he wanted. “I’m just not ready to enter this yet.”

“Rube…” Sara sighed. “Ruben, how many songs have you written?”

“I lost count.” He admitted, grinning slightly. “You would know because you’re the one who keeps them all. I’d probably know how much if I stop and spend about an hour trying to recall them all, but –”

“You’ve written a total of thirty-eight songs. Minus the first song you’re still trying to write.” Sara sighed.

“Point?”

“If that number isn’t enough, then I don’t know what is.”

Examining his friend closely for a second, Ruben smiled slightly and leaned forward. “I didn’t say my music isn’t ready for publication. It’s my feelings for this that isn’t ready yet, alright? I’m not ready to show them yet. It’s personal. Music is… music is something connected to an individual individually. The way someone connects depends on when they’re listening to it, what mood they were in previously, what’s going on in their life, what’s happened in their lives, what they think will happen… I can go on forever and list the things that make music connect to people. Some people listen to the lyrics. Some listen to the drums. Some listen to the guitars, some just listen to the instruments in general. They say that music gives off good messages, but it only gives those messages if they feel those messages. You can take two people, let them listen to the same song, and they might get two different opinions of the music completely.”

“Listen to you, so passionate about it.” Sara sighed. “Why aren’t you ready for it? You always say that music has its own soul, and by just reading some of the stuff you write, it’s more likely going to be a best-seller than my stories. You are ready for this, you’re just…”

“Lyricists are special that way. They’re the one to make people connect. Mind you, the tune counts in as well as the first thing to attract the attention, but it’s the lyrics. I write songs for myself, sometimes for others even though I never show it… I’m just not sure if I’m ready to give messages to people out there already.” Ruben replied, diverting his eyes from her gaze. “Though some people just listen to music for the sheer pleasure of it. It all depends on an individual, see?”

Deciding not to answer his question, Sara closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree, resting her head on the hard bark as she tried to take in what he was saying. Some lyricists wouldn’t even know the impact of their jobs on people, and yet, they would willingly write for the money. Ruben, who had spent most of his time listening to other music, writes for his own soul and for the soul of music itself – something Sara decided would make more of an impact to listeners than normally composed music with no emotion put in. If anything, one thing for sure was that the music itself would mean more to Ruben than it would for some other lyricists out there. Ruben tried not to show his passion for his lyrics, which was why he had her keeping all his work, but Sara knew full well that he knew all of his songs to the last word.

To quote what most authors said about their books and stories, his lyrics were like his children.

Blinking, once, twice,
And a minute has not passed by
Standing, waiting,
And you still give a cold eye
How will I manage
How great’s this damage?
That I have given to y-o-u

(Chorus:) You will not, you will not
Just open up and blurt it out
Take my shoulders and cry it out
Get it out, get it out
Out so the whole world can hear
Out so it’s all just so clear
And then I’ll hold you, dear

Running, here, there
Turning around and you’re nowhere
Blinded, frightened
How can this be? It’s too unfair
How will I manage?
How great’s this damage?
That I have given to y-o-u

(Chorus)

How will I manage?
How great’s this damage?
That I have given to y-o-u
Please answer, I want to know
Just walk to me and please just show
What wrong have I done?
I want all the bad undone
I was trying to help you
I didn’t mean to hurt y-o-u

(Chorus)

Just get it out
And I’ll hold you, right now

(Chorus x2)

File Transfer complete

Krapniknil: Wow… like wow… he wrote that?
Musicizmylife: Yeah. It’s one of my favourites by him, but only coz I’m a sucker for rock
Krapniknil: Haha. That’s pretty obvious, I think.
Musicizmylife: Hush. So what do you think about it?
Krapniknil: Was “Wow” not descriptive enough?
Musicizmylife: …Good point
Musicizmylife: He’ll skin me alive if he finds out that I let you read that
Krapniknil: What changed your mind?
Musicizmylife: I dunno… I need some ideas on what to tell him to convince him and I thought you could help me out if you only see his work
Musicizmylife: I really want him to enter
Musicizmylife: He can win it
Krapniknil: True, he could. Anyone could. But if his heart isn’t it, he won’t produce a good enough set of lyrics for the entry though…
Musicizmylife: Hang on, didn’t the rules say that you can enter as long as it hasn’t been publicised anywhere?
Krapniknil: Yeah, but judging by how much you talk about him… I’d expect him to be the type of person to write another.
Musicizmylife: If he wants something to be really special to him, I bet he’ll finish his first song and hand that in. He’s been at it for aaaaages.
Krapniknil: Hm…
Musicizmylife: You thinking?
Krapniknil: Yeah. Trying to find a way to get him motivated enough.
Musicizmylife: Good luck.
Krapniknil: So you said that you want him to enter. No matter what?
Musicizmylife: No matter what.
Krapniknil: What are you willing to sacrifice?
Musicizmylife: Anything.

Krapniknil has signed off

From: Rachel Kiel (e-mail removed)
To: Ruben Beckett (e-mail removed)
Date: (date removed) 16:32
Subject: Just a word…
Signed-by: Google
Mailed-by: Google

Hey, Ruben,

You might have heard my name from Sara before – I’m like… one of her closest friends online, but she might have addressed me as Krapniknil instead of Rachel. We met in a music forum, but at the ‘Creativity’ sub-forum where I learned that she’s a casual writer like myself. She talks about you a lot, and says that she mentions my name to you sometimes, so I’ll just assume that you know me somewhat and that you know you’re facing your friend’s closest online friend rather than some weird stranger from nowhere. I was also the one who told her about Black Moon’s competition.

With that settled, I’ll also say that last night, Sara finally let me read one of your lyrics; Get it out. And if I’m honest… with that one set of lyrics, I could just see you winning the whole competition. I didn’t need a tune to enjoy those, and it’s absolutely breathtaking. Suited me at the very right time as well. It’s awesome.

Sara talks about you a lot. She said you have a passion for music, which I can see clearly in your lyrics anyway. I know you’re probably thinking that it’s none of my business, but please consider it. Sara’s willing to give up anything to let people see your potential as a lyric writer. The music is ready to go out there, and I think you are. Some people might want the use of your lyrics for their lives.

Rachel.

“Damn you, Sara…”

Swinging his computer chair back, Ruben glared hard at the screen of his computer, not wanting to believe that she would do such a thing like giving out his lyrics to someone. He didn’t care; he knew that Sara had known Rachel – or Krapniknil, as she usually called her – for about two years now, but that gave her no right whatsoever to let her read his lyrics. And why on earth would they care about what he wanted? It was his set of lyrics, and he could do whatever he pleases.

Biting his lips slightly, Ruben opened the folder to his music and scrolled down through the hundreds of titles he had stored on his computer. It took him a while to reach the ‘B’ part of the list, but as he got there, he double-clicked on the ‘Black Moon – Had Enough’ line and tuned up the speakers, very much annoyed with everything. Sara should be popping in any time soon, he knew, so that would make life easier for him to corner her.

Just as the track was about to be repeated for the fourth time, a gentle knock – Sara’s knock – was heard on the door and she poked her head in, smiling slightly at him. “Hey.” She said cheerfully as she stepped inside. Sara perched herself on his bed as usual, but her smile faded slightly when Ruben turned the music off. Usually, he would just tune down the speakers, especially if he was listening to some hard rock music that he knew she preferred over everything else. “Ruben? What’s up?”

“Read.” He answered, pointing at the screen of his computer.

Bewildered, Sara stood up and crossed over to where he was sitting. She cursed out loud as soon as she saw Rachel’s name at the top and did not need to read any more than that. “Oh jeez… When I said anything, I didn’t mean…”

“Why can’t you just mind your own business, Sara?” Ruben narrowed his eyes. “I told you enough times already. I’m not ready for it.”

Deciding to press on and ignore the consequences she might face, Sara sat back down on his bed and looked at him. “You keep on saying you’re not ready for it. But every time you write a new set of lyrics which you let me read and keep for you, you say the same thing – ‘I can’t wait to be a lyricist’. Rube, if you’re gonna continue and be like this, you’re never going to be a lyricist. This is a golden opportunity. You can be famous in one stroke and have all your lyrics out there at the same time. It’s your dream. A chance like this may never come again.”

“Just go, Sara…”

“Rube, this isn’t fair. You know you want to do it and let everyone hear what you’ve got to say for the world. You don’t remember constantly telling me that?” She tried as she stood up, hoping against hope that he would cool off.

Ruben narrowed his eyes at her. “I remember. I also remember saying constantly that you must not let anyone else read it. Go away.”

Sara opened her mouth to argue, but Ruben turned away and started to drag a few songs into Windows Media Player for him to listen to. She watched him for a while as he continued to build the list up, recognising some of her favourite songs from her favourite bands, including those from Black Moon, Over Yonder, Zero Tolerance, and many others. Biting her lips, Sara decided to let him cool off for a while before talking to him again. She noticed that most of the songs he chose were ones that would probably make him feel a lot angrier, but she had faith that some others would have the opposite effect.

Walking over to the door, Sara opened it and glanced at his back. “You’re listening to Black Moon. Can you listen to ‘Scars’ while you’re at it? Just… just listen.”

“Will do.” He replied curtly.

As soon as he heard Sara leave the house, Ruben downloaded the song she mentioned while listening intently to the sound of the instruments from the songs of his play list instead of focusing on the lyrics. Every once in a while, he would tap his fingers to follow the beat, but never once did he open his mouth to sing the already-memorised lyrics from the songs played. It took him a while to feel obligated enough to listen to ‘Scars’, but when he finally did, it was right after listening to his favourite song, ‘What I’ve Done’ by Linkin Park.

“Jeez, Sara…” Ruben hissed as he listened. He shut the speakers off and grabbed his remote to turn the stereo on. With his favourite song almost coming on, Ruben quickly switched to the radio and closed his eyes.

“A moment like this; Some people wait a lifetime… for a moment like this; Some people search forever… for that one special kiss; Ohhh I can’t believe it’s happening to me… Some people wait a lifetime… For a moment like this…”

“Yes, and that was Leona Lewis and her single, ‘A Moment Like This’. She’s become a real hit since she won the X-Factor, wouldn’t you agree, David?”

“Of course. I remember interviewing some of her fans, and most had the highest faith for her in winning…”

“Stuff this.” Ruben growled as the voices of the radio presenters left his mind. He switched the radio off and turned back to the computer, once again opening the e-mail for what he believed would be the last time. Hitting the ‘Reply’ button, Ruben scanned the words from Krapniknil’s e-mail and tapped his fingers lightly against the keyboard for a while before typing out his response.

From: Ruben Beckett (e-mail removed)
To: Rachel Kiel (e-mail removed)
Date: (date removed) 19:23
Subject: RE: Just a word…
Signed-by: Google
Mailed-by: Google

Heya,

I hope you don’t mind if I call you Krapniknil and not Rachel – I don’t mean it as an offence or anything like that, but Sara always addresses you as that, and Rachel just sounds… somewhat weird, if you get what I mean. Plus, I like that username of yours: Krapniknil. Linkin Park happens to be one of my favourite bands ever, so I’m glad that you’re one as well.

I’d just like to thank you for your e-mail, really. It felt a bit strange at first, having someone read your lyrics like that, but ‘Get it Out’ happens to be my earlier, but better works, so I’m glad you enjoyed it. I guess it sorta pulled me through a strange mood as well, but it also woke me up, to a point.

If you see Sara, tell her that I’ll talk to her later.

Rubes.

Musicizmylife has just signed on

Personal Message changed: Black Moon – Scars

Krapniknil: Hey
Musicizmylife: Gosh… what the heck did you do that for?!
Krapniknil: So my guess was right.
Musicizmylife: What guess? Stop being so poetic and just spit out your theories and I’ll tell what’s right or wrong. Simple as.
Krapniknil: Calm down. I know you had a fight with Ruben – or I kinda got the feeling of it from his reply.
Musicizmylife: He was angry, wasn’t he? I totally messed up…
Krapniknil: Well, it looks as if he was angry. But his reply was really kind.
Musicizmylife: What?
Krapniknil: I think he’s entering the competition.
Krapniknil: He said that he was woken up, or something like that.
Musicizmylife: …
Krapniknil: Sara?
Musicizmylife: I’ll be back later.

Musicizmylife has signed off

Date: Removed

Subject: Guess it’s time to move on…

When you want to write lyrics… when you feel as though there’s a song inside of you just shouting it out, you feel it in your soul and you just know that it’s going to be one big hit. Music is a melody, and it’s something that an individual will eventually come and interpret in their part as an individual. Something anyone can enjoy, no matter who or what they are. And in this modern world, it’s pretty much inescapable.

Music isn’t just… lyrics. Take someone like Darude and his brilliant ‘Sandstorm’ piece or Beethoven and his ‘Fur Elise’, and you’ll know that it’s got no lyrics whatsoever. In the end, music is just a word to describe a tune and melody that’s pleasing to the ears. Whether to you, it means hard rock or pop, or whether it means listening to the voice of those you love talking to you, or reading to you, the pleasure is there and hence, came the word music. That’s my interpretation anyway, as a lyricist. My music comes in the form of songs. I have a friend, Sara, whose music comes in the form of books and stories. I should really start calling myself a singer-songwriter, but whatever. All I know is that I write the lyrics, and I have my own tune to go with it, but if someone wants to use it, change the melody for all I care. As long as my message remains.

That’s just one other thing I’d like to touch on: Messages in Music. Listening to ‘What I’ve Done’ by Linkin Park so repeatedly, or even listening to Zero Tolerance, Black Moon or Leona Lewis. Every song has lyrics, and even if it’s done unintentionally, it can deliver a message right into the soul of a person listening to it. That’s my greatest desire as a lyricist. To just touch everyone in one way or another when they read my lyrics, and maybe just to feel what I have felt, know and acknowledge different lives. To have that control over people, even if it’s a matter of three short minutes to each song – it can create an impact bigger than anything else I could ever hope to create.

Listening to different songs at different times sparks off different thoughts and emotions. I’m sure most of us, if not all of us in this modern world, has come through that point where one song made us cry. Or laugh happily. Or made us believe that it’s just there, talking to us personally, comforting us or tantalising us. Something which can go both ways like a double-edged knife, but we listen to it anyway, and take it in as it is, and when we listen to it again, we might form different thoughts on it. Who knows? Maybe that music… that voice you hear, or those words you take in – maybe that can help us realise what matters to us most.

As one who will spend his life writing lyrics… that is what I believe in.

Ruben Beckett.

Posted at 08:58 pm Edit Journal ll Entry Add Comments ll Edit Journal ll Details

Walking down, I stop and turn around
Wondering to myself,
When she would turn up
She who took a different path to mine,
Same destination, but different experiences
You stop and wonder at this moment in time
This long journey,
Not yet the end,
Nor the start
Look back and see what paths you took
Stare straight and find which road to choose
You’ll realise…
Oh you’ll realise…

I walked down a road and stopped at my tracks
Seeing a deaf and a blind in my way
I walked over and began to communicate
One by hands
And the by words
Different languages though the same value
Same destination, but different experiences
Look ahead and you will see…
Ohhh, you will see…

(Chorus:) We have different challenges
Different metaphors
Life really has their balances
Same things in our hearts
And when we go, far ahead
We then just realise
We then just realise…

I asked the blind how it must feel
To be so different to all the rest
One response was all I got:
“Why am I different when you’re different to me?”
I looked away, hung my head in shame
Same destination, but different roads
Cold realisation swept ‘round me
And I realise…
And I realise…

Just hold on a sec
Give it a thought
They’re no different
Than you are to them
Give it a minute
Run it through your head
Touch your mirror
Look at the reflection
Realise: They’re using a different hand

(Chorus)

Different roads to take
Same minds, same destination
Ohhh how different we all really are
One by one
To the end
And when we go, far ahead
We then just realise
When we just realise…
It’s all the music of life.