Scout sighed and shook her head, her hair falling into her ears as she shuffled on her stool, the wood feeling hard against her fairly non existent posterior. Scout, although fairly popular among her peers, had something she would never share with them, musical skill. She played guitar and sang fairly well, in her opinion, though her dads always told her she sang beautifully. She never believed them, though thought her voice was average. Her fingers gently strummed at the soft strings on her acoustic guitar, her left hand fingering the frets at the neck of the guitar as she twisted her fingers into a g chord. In the practise rooms and recording sudios was where Scout found her peace. She could come there to sing, dance, whatever she pleased, just to get away from all the trials and tribulations of High School sophomore year. Her school was bitchy, vindictive and full of gossip, so it was nice to get away from it all and be alone for once in a while. She chewed at her bottom lip as she lifted a slender hand to swipe a strand of her hair behind her ear, pushing away the, now, fair, blonde locks away from her eyes. Scout was forever swapping her hair from blonde to brown and she wasn’t sure which she preferred, though she thought it was brown. She knew it wasn’t doing her any good, but it was just typical Scout to carry on doing it anyway. Just like being sick, it wasn’t doing her much more good than keeping her slim.

” There’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth, there’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt” she whispered quietly at her fingers plucked slowly at the strings on her guitar, her thumb caressing it softly with it’s tiny pad. Her words floated gracefully out of her mouth as she sang, her words quiet against the slightly louder strumming of her guitar. She continued to sing, her own words melting her heart slowly as she began to sing a little louder, her voice no such a whisper as she went. She loved singing, adored it even, but the precious times she did get to sing usually ended with her in tears. She had no idea why, but she found her own lyrics more touching than others, though the lyrics of Damien Rice even more so than her own. She wasn’t sure why, but his words captured every unspoken word of her own, every last syllable echoing how her heart felt. At that moment, Cannonball was rippling through her vocals, her voice repeating the words she’d hear many a time as she strummed at her guitar, arching her back as she felt the strap fall down it before standing up. She began to stroll in a soft circle around the brown, wooden stool, stopping momentarily to pull the scarlet jacket from around her thin frame and drop it to the floor. Her willowy figure was shown, the skin tight jeans slicked close to her tiny limbs as she rolled up the sleeves on her dark, striped top. The horizontal stripes made her look wider, but she knew she could pull it off, she had style.

Pulling the black, leather strap back around her frame she sighed quietly to herself, chewing the inside of her cheek as she tilted her head to one side, her back facing the door as she looked at the back wall of the practise room. Her eyebrows painfully contracted for a moment before she shook her head and sat, leaning with her back against the wooden stool, as she closed her eyes. Breathing deeply for a few moment she felt her fingers began to move, her nimble hands softly playing fields of gold on her guitar, unlike how it was originally done of the piano. Well, not originally, but originally for when Eva Cassidy did it. Her voice echoed slowly, trembling slowly as she sang, her voice angelic as she sang the words. She admired Eva Cassidy and had tremendous respect for her so singing her words made her shake a little, it sent her a little off nervous. As she slowly sang more words, her voice powerful, though delicate sounding, as she sang, her fingers moving quickly as she plucked quietly. For a moment she didn’t realise there was a tear down her face, but as she felt her words cascade into nothing she opened her eyes and found the tea mark with her index finger, rubbing it away softly before letting a relieved smile break onto her face. It got her everytime, but never had she felt better.

For a moment she sat still, not a single movement, until she realised she couldn’t sit there forever. She stood up and ran her fingers through her soft, blonde locks, shaking her fringe over her yes once more as she pulled the strap from around her back, resting the guitar beside the wooden stool which stood in the centre of the large room. She sighed again, her body and mind quite tired from the rush of emotions she’d felt form singing. It always happened, but it made her think. It was at that moment that her world came crashing back to her and reality hit, her stomach began numbing with pain for food and her face crumpled into a frown. She hated that feeling. That feeling of emptiness, of remembrance. Her fingers lifted her shirt up a little, exposing the top of her skinny jeans and a perfectly flat stomach. She growled quietly as she looked at it, her eyebrows contracted painfully as she gazed down at her tummy, her finger prodding it sharply as it grumbled inside her. “Shut it, fatty” she told her tummy as she dropped her top, shaking her head of hair as she leant down to pick up her scarlet jacket, ignoring the noise of the door.

tag, open to anyone
outfit, here
word count, 994
music, fields of gold – eva Cassidy
comments, kinda sucks, kinda rambly xD