She opened hers.
Strangly she felt no pain. This reassured her idea that she was dead.
Marylou saw a man walked past her in a black cloak.
He dropped his pistol.
Marylou was about to sit upright when she thought, "No, I better not, I'm dead afterall"
The cloaked figure turned around and said.
"You better get home quickly Marylou. Someone has already called the police, and I don't want you here to see me get arrested." The figure said in a familiar voice. Marylou remained lying and silent for a moment. "Go"
Marylou bolted home.
Her mind started racing.
Who was that?
Someone from a movie she once saw?
She opened the door and quickly went upstairs into a hot bath.
July 3, 1986
Marylou woke up, still very well aware of what happened yesterday.
She strolled downstairs expected to be pinned and asked an exceptional amount of questions.
However, she was greated as if it was a normal day.
As far as Marylou, a 10-year-old, cared it could be.
July 13, 1986
You wake up staring at your ceiling.
You could peel your eyelids off for boredom.
Marylou smiled at these thoughts.
She smiled because a friend of hers was in "sare-apy" for them. As well as speach lessons.
Marylou was smarter than to tell anyone.
There was a knock like a fist of brick.
"Grandpa!" Marylou ran to her door and opened it. Revealing her best friend Fred.
"Oh?" Fred laughed. "You were expecting someone else"
Marylou rolled her eyes.
Fred brought his acoustic guitar into her room and started playing.
Marylou couldn't help the urge.
She sang "Otter."
March 25, 1988
The lights were on her and Fred.
It wasn't there turn yet.
They had to wait and sweat it out.
Fred started picking at his guitar to make sure it was in tune.
Marylou did a few vocal excerizes under her breath, getting louder with them.
"Nervous?" said a man standing behind them.
"A bit," Fred admitted.
There was a slightly distant applause.
The man behind them went and stood behing the microphone and annouced them.
"Marylou..." his voice trailed in Marylou's head. "...and Fred..." Marylou shook herself out of the nervous daydreaming. "...preforming an original, called "Otter"
There was an applause.
The room fell silent.
Marylou filled the blackhole with her voice.
Half-way through the song Fred stopped playing.
It dawned on him, the music did the song no justice.
July 29, 1988
Marylou sat down at the table with her mother.
The lawyer they hired walked in after them.
The business man slowly followed.
"Well basically what we want is to take Marylou to the top." The business man said.
Marylou's mother shook her head. "But won't this miss with the way her life is going? I mean, what will she do about school and the like"
"That shouldn't be a problem, a tutor could be hired." The lawyer said.
The idea was finished by the business man, "But if she can be rich and famous, why be schooled?"
October 30, 1988
"If I was a normal kid, I would be out in a silly outfit with my friends right now." Marylou said to no one in general.
"But," said the sound technician. "You aren't a normal girl. You have a gift. You need to use it"
"I don't have a gift. I only wrote one song ever. And the producers won't even put it on the record when its done..." She looked down depressedly. "They wouldn't even let me record it"
"Well they are trying to get you to rise to stardom the quickest, than you will have more power I guess"
"But I don't even really like boys. And that is what every one of my songs is about. That, and me not being a good girl, 'momma I so sorry', damnit." Marylou kicked the edge of the booth.
The technician turned the machine on.
"Alright, well, I guess today we'll started with 'Momma I'll Be A Good Girl Later' okay"
Marylou closed her eyes and waited for hell to consume her.
The music started.
November 15, 1988
The last day of recording was finally upon her.
At this point Marylou was no longer furious about the album.
She was too tired to care.
Marylou flipped her sweaty dyed-red hair out of her face.
The machine wasn't on and she knew it.
Marylou absently started to sing "Otter"
Everyone in the room brightened and got there energy back.
The producer walked in and heard her.
He immediately switched the intercom on and yelled, "Stop singing that shit. I wrote much better songs. Stick to what we did"
The whole crew fell back into the slump.
Marylou sat down and kicked the edge.
A single tear fell down her face.
They told her to sing one of the pre-written songs.
She sang like an angel.
She added a certain heartache to an upbeat song.
She hated it.
The world would love it.
The world would love her.
January 7, 1989
The first day of touring.
Marylou was on a bus from Gorgetown to someplace called Boston.
"Why is it the the landscape looks like paper being turned?" Marylou asked.
One of the crew chuckled. All of the producers ignored her.
Marylou stuck her face to the window.
She saw a man with a black cloak wave at her from the side of one of the cliffs.
He was waving at her.
Not thumbing for a ride.
He was waiting there just to wave at her.
"Turn on the radio now!" Marylou shouted. "The news"
The driver turned the radio on.
"And now she is heading east towards Boston Mass. Back to you in the studio John"
Marylou pasted her face against the window.
She fell asleep to the sounds of driving and some stupid political blather.
In her mind, her eyelids ripped themselves off.