The Music of Us
The Music of Us ya stories

lucysimons55 Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   7 months ago
Elira, lost her voice in an accident. The voice that helped her escape. But her relationship with music did not end up there. With her best friend Demo, they will try and conquest the world with their music. They just need the other members of the band. Unfortunately, Elira's sarcastic personality is not helpful.

Until, one day she hears the same song that haunts her every day in her dreams. She knows, even though, Aiden is annoying, he has to be their vocalist. if only Elira was more kind to him.

This is the beginning of a group of friends that fight for their dreams, that cry for broken hearts, that smile for unforgettable moments. This is the beginning of the real challenge of their lives.

And, just maybe, the discovery of a new color, of a new feeling.

The Music of Us

Chapter 1

My Voice

"Shut up, Elira! Stop singing!"

Life was not simple, not even in the brightest days. That was something that I learned when I was young, but it was an idea that we should all be born with.

"Elira, you'll be late if you keep daydreaming," my aunt woke me up from my thoughts.

"If I was daydreaming, I wouldn't be this agitated," I said referring to my breaths. "I think you should already know this by now," I replied bluntly.

I finished gulping my green smoothie, swallowed the pills that Dr. Leo and Dr. Erik gave me, and stood up from the dining table before going to the bathroom and checking-up my make-up.

Every day I applied my make-up on like it was my second skin, like it was part of my facial features, like it was part of me.

To hide my skin flaws, my face flaws, whatever I thought was unpleasant. I applied make-up everyday already as a routine, so constantly that sometimes I didn't even think about what I was doing.

I didn't even realize that everything was a fraud.

I wasn't implying that make-up itself was a fraud, make-up was the metaphor. The falsity in this case was the smile I wore each day.

That smile that I embraced so hardly even though the corners of my lips wanted to carry me with them to the underworld, to the unknown.

Even though everything inside me was crumbling, this smile was a mask to let everyone know that I was not weak. Although, what I really wanted was to ask for help.

But I simply didn't do it because I didn't want to be saved by anybody. I was waiting to be saved by myself. I was sick of depending on others.

But being your own lifesaver in a storm is a complicated matter. I knew this because I was already trying to save myself for more than 5 years.

There are happy smiles, joyful smiles, and pleasant smiles. Then there's my smile. It didn't encourage people to smile either. It was neither a smile that appreciated everyday life.

Mine was sarcastic with a touch of annoyance and a pinch of mockery.

"See you at night," my aunt said goodbye while I went to the front door. I didn't open my mouth, why waste my breath on someone who already had given up on me.

The sub was full, there was barely space for one more soul, but I was already late so I had to put up with the sweat of unknown people.

Usually, I wouldn't be so stressed about the time, but Demo had bet a lot of money that I was unable to be on time the whole year and without any absence.

Aunt Zalia supported me financially in anything I needed, but behind her back, I was saving money to escape.

I arrived seconds before the bell rang. All the sweat from the sub and from running made a mess of my make-up that I effortlessly applied but adored. Stupid Demo, I thought.

But I couldn't be angry at him when I saw him standing all cheerful, with his big brown eyes, waiting for me at the class's door.

"I'm happy that you're taking the bet seriously," he smiled, ruffling his black hair and not a sweat in his olive skin.

"I'm just doing it because the new album of Anonymous Lotus just came out and they are giving a concert in London. I have to go, I need to, it's a matter of life and death."

"I know."

While we waited for our History teacher, we drowned ourselves in a conversation about what we loved the most; music.

Demo and I were huge fans of Anonymous Lotus, an indie rock band from Louisiana. We were also members of one of the music clubs in the school, the only members.

We wanted to form a new music club and, being Demo the favorite student of the school, they allowed us to make it official.

Demo played the guitar like the angels played the harp. Every time I heard him play it was a trip to a whole new world, to another universe.

I created stories for each song Demo sent me at late night hours.

My contribution for the club was writing the song lyrics. It suited me to express my feelings through the words of a melody.

I remember the first song I wrote. A night when I was seven years old and thought that losing my dog in an accident was going to be the worst pain I'd feel.

You made my world so bright that shine,

Now everything's black and white.

I know you're in a better place,

But here beside me you made me laugh and smile.

I miss you like the flower misses the rain,

Like the sky misses the sun.

I miss you, and you never said goodbye.

I never said goodbye.

It wasn't a song I was fully proud of, but it was the first of thousands. So, I respected it. For me, writing a song meant telling a story.

Expressing your feelings and letting go of everything that caused you pain. At least for a sad melodic song. For a happy one, lyrics were also important but also a catchy rhythm.

I tried, I really tried to write songs that encourage people to dance and live happily ever after, but I just couldn't. I knew why, my life was like the sea.

It had its calm days and its stormy ones, but it was never truly safe. That's why I wrote songs that helped me survive the high waves.

And, why not, if someone else heard them, that people with a sea life would identify with and people who didn't have one, would understand.

"Page 20, now." That was the greeting of our History teacher, my lovely dear Miss Ronda.

"Well, good morning, Ms. Ronda. You're as charming as ever," I said, giving her my greetings.

"Not again," Demo's reaction was valid. I didn't have a good relationship with Ronda, or any teacher now that I thought about it.

"Something else you want to add, Miss Lonewell?" She asked.

"Just wanted to allude to your presence," I lowered my voice for the next words. "Old hag."

"What did you just say?" Her rage was notorious and that made the scene more hilarious.

"She said... you're swag," interrupted Demo with a fake laugh, always trying to save me. "It means you are cool, Ms. Ronda."

"Yeah, exactly. Sorry, I'm not in the best mood to make better compliments," I argued.

"When are you in a good mood?" asked Danina, the obnoxious girl I sadly knew since kindergarten. Actually, everyone here, except Demo, were detestable.

"I bet that if Devon wasn't here, you would kill us all."

"Oh yeah? Then maybe I should kill Knight Montez first and see what happens to all of you."

"Enough! Miss Lonewell, out of the class. Try to comprehend that other students do want to learn and not listen to your flattery."

If I obeyed Ronda's instruction my bet with Demo would've failed in just the first day.

So, I gathered the will to kindly smile and promise Ronda that I would behave, and not interrupt her class again. By the looks of it, Ronda sure was in a good mood, because she let me stay.

After classes, it was time for the clubs. Each student went to their assigned classroom and submerged in their own world.

Unless you were one of those cases that entered the soccer team by order of your parents, like poor Nicholas.

Because our club had only two members, we went to a tiny art room. Demo went his way to grab one guitar from the music room and then we started to create wonder.

Why were we not in the official music club? Simple, every idiot who was a member there was useless to me. Demo and I were in the search of starting a band. Nobody played the guitar like he did.

And the times I heard the members play any instrument it was torture to my ears. There was also the vocalist department. That was a delicate topic for me.

While Demo rehearsed one of his melodies, I was immersed in my song writing. Sometimes it was complicated expressing my feelings and putting them in a great melody.

But it was what I love to do the most.

"I'm going to buy something to eat, want something?" I asked without a response because he had already broken the cage and that exotic bird was flying freely in the musical world.

That made me smile.

Like expected, all the cinnamon rolls were out.

Damn beasts that threw themselves one in front of another for a simple roll! In the moment when I was deciding if to pick a sandwich or something sweet, something struck my chest.

A harmony, a note, a song.

I felt how my body started crumbling and my breathing got heavier. Not another panic attack, I thought. Relax, breathe. I had to make an effort and find out whose voice this was.

I didn't care that he was singing that song, his voice was magic itself, and the wish to see him made my legs move by themselves. I run the whole corridor and followed the notes.

His voice guided me too. His voice was soothing to the soul, yet it also intended to break it. It was like when you heard a cat purr, but knew he might scratch your body if you were not gentle.

His voice gave me the sensation that life was something bigger than you picture it. That even though you felt your lungs were breaking, you needed to breathe.

Even though you wanted to disappear, you still had so much things to do. That even in the darkest days there was hope.

But, why did he choose this song? Why this one from billions? Over the Rainbow was not a trending song nowadays.

My jaw tensed, as did my whole body. But I finally got to the right classroom. I opened the door like my life depended on it.

My eyes didn't recognize him. He was less than one inch smaller than me and was sadly looking at the window like it was a scene from a cringey soap opera.

When he met my eyes, he stopped singing.

"Who are you?" we asked at the same time, his tone was shy while mine demanded an explanation.

"Wait, talk to me!" he seemed altered, like he was seeing a ghost in my voice.

"Don't tell me what to do," I reacted, still regaining my composure and breathing.

"You just did," he giggled. "You are..."

"Boy, quit you're blabbering," I said "You are my voice."

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