Post by Carson McGreggor H6 on Sept 15, 2007 15:23:40 GMT
Carson walked out onto the courtyard at six in the morning with his guitar. He hadn’t slept at all last night; for he was just too busy thinking. He thought about very random things, but also very important things. He thought about what he was having for breakfast and what his sister would be having for breakfast. He thought about what his life would be like had his parents been alive and sane. Would he have such a history? Would he seriously have grown up in such a place? Would his aunt and uncle seriously be so evil if they were still alive? He didn’t want to think about his past, nor did we want to think about his future…the present wasn’t such a sweet topic to think about either. He didn’t want to think about life in general; he just wanted to play his guitar without so many different thoughts going in and out of his head. It wasn’t possible for Carson though, for he had a knack for doing exactly what he didn’t want himself to be doing.
As Carson walked out into the courtyard, he found himself thinking about girls…it sounded normal for a teenage boy, but it wasn’t normal for Carson. He didn’t think about girls or dating like most people did. He just lived life the best he could. People bothered him so much about it, but he just wasn’t ready to date. He didn’t want to deal with the emotional drama that came along with it. He didn’t want to deal with having to remember anniversaries or knowing exactly what his girlfriend meant when she said something. Most girls he knew tended to do that often. They would say it was okay to say something, and then get upset when he said it. His sister Julia had tried so hard to try and explain the nature of a girl’s mind to him, but it seemed like rocket science to him. He sat on the cold hard pavement and picked up his guitar. The grounds probably would have been more private, but he didn’t feel like walking all the way out there. Carson’s laziness tended to get in the way of him doing a lot of things. In the end, he knew it just made things harder for him, but it didn’t bother him much. He definitely wasn’t one to go the extra mile. He just didn’t want to.
He passed his hand along the smooth surface of the acoustic guitar. This was his oldest and most loved guitar. He had found it tattered and broken in someone’s garbage and took it home with him. He asked his aunt and uncle to fix it by magic, but they told him to just take the piece of trash outside, and that it was far beyond repair. Carson knew better though. Little Carson, who was six at the time took the guitar to his room (which he shared with his sister) and spent weeks locked up in there to fix it. After months of fixing the strings and putting the wood back in its place, he had fixed it. He used it every day after school, and eventually he got really good at it. He smiled a bit as he passed his fingers along the strings. He moved his fingers along the instrument swiftly ad with ease and grace, blending notes together to make the wondrous thing that was music. He didn’t sing at all, but just strummed his fingers along the smooth strings of the guitar. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting on the courtyard floor; it could have been minutes and it could have been hours. Carson was so mesmerized in his music that he barely even noticed the sun rise, let alone the steps that were coming up from behind him.
(not my best work, but I guess it's okay)
As Carson walked out into the courtyard, he found himself thinking about girls…it sounded normal for a teenage boy, but it wasn’t normal for Carson. He didn’t think about girls or dating like most people did. He just lived life the best he could. People bothered him so much about it, but he just wasn’t ready to date. He didn’t want to deal with the emotional drama that came along with it. He didn’t want to deal with having to remember anniversaries or knowing exactly what his girlfriend meant when she said something. Most girls he knew tended to do that often. They would say it was okay to say something, and then get upset when he said it. His sister Julia had tried so hard to try and explain the nature of a girl’s mind to him, but it seemed like rocket science to him. He sat on the cold hard pavement and picked up his guitar. The grounds probably would have been more private, but he didn’t feel like walking all the way out there. Carson’s laziness tended to get in the way of him doing a lot of things. In the end, he knew it just made things harder for him, but it didn’t bother him much. He definitely wasn’t one to go the extra mile. He just didn’t want to.
He passed his hand along the smooth surface of the acoustic guitar. This was his oldest and most loved guitar. He had found it tattered and broken in someone’s garbage and took it home with him. He asked his aunt and uncle to fix it by magic, but they told him to just take the piece of trash outside, and that it was far beyond repair. Carson knew better though. Little Carson, who was six at the time took the guitar to his room (which he shared with his sister) and spent weeks locked up in there to fix it. After months of fixing the strings and putting the wood back in its place, he had fixed it. He used it every day after school, and eventually he got really good at it. He smiled a bit as he passed his fingers along the strings. He moved his fingers along the instrument swiftly ad with ease and grace, blending notes together to make the wondrous thing that was music. He didn’t sing at all, but just strummed his fingers along the smooth strings of the guitar. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting on the courtyard floor; it could have been minutes and it could have been hours. Carson was so mesmerized in his music that he barely even noticed the sun rise, let alone the steps that were coming up from behind him.
(not my best work, but I guess it's okay)
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