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31_days2007-06-15 03:06 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-06-15 03:06 pm
[June 15, 2007][Original] And Bartholomew Makes Four
Title: And Bartholomew Makes Four
Day/Theme: June 25, 2007 "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal."
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: several boys
Rating: G
Just something random.
The only thing that made him any different from any of the other boys in uniform riding the bus to school and then back home again was the sticker depicting a bright red guitar on the side of his plain, tin lunchbox. That was what attracted me to observe him at first. He had a messy, chocolate brown mop of hair and cool blue eyes. His name was Bartholomew.
For some reason he took the seat next to me on April morning. I don't know, maybe he had been interested in me too. It didn't matter. We didn't have any classes together. I seized the opportunity. "Do you wanna be in a band?" I asked before I'd even introduced myself.
He looked at me slowly and I saw his fingers meaningfully brush the guitar sticker. "I don't know how to play any instrument," he replied, effectively giving me the conditions for his entry.
I shook my head. "I don't care. I stink anyway."
"Okay."
That was all it took. Bartholomew (he was never called anything else by anyone) came over to George's house the following afternoon. He was quiet, but George liked him immediately and seconded my judgment in the matter. More important than actual musical ability was the passion for music and the right temperment to get along with George, Tom, and me. When we started up our practicing: drums, guitar, and mandolin with some spotty vocals, I could just see the light in his eyes come alive. Beyond the hair cut by his mom and the chicken salad sandwich was the spirit of rock and roll. When he got to know the tune he hummed.
After a few sessions in George's garage, George gave him a tambourine- making him our official "tambourine girl." He protested the title, but not the task. His face was so serious at school, but when we played you could see that he was the youngest one of us 'cause his smile was so cute.
One day out of the blue he started singing along with George and his goofy mandolin. I didn't really know why then, but hearing their voices meld and mix, I was jealous it was George he was singing with and not me. He had a beautiful voice. We were all sort of stunned and when George jerkily stopped playing, we all stared at Bartholomew in silence for a few minutes until George said, "I suppose my days as lead vocalist here are numbered."
Day/Theme: June 25, 2007 "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal."
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: several boys
Rating: G
Just something random.
The only thing that made him any different from any of the other boys in uniform riding the bus to school and then back home again was the sticker depicting a bright red guitar on the side of his plain, tin lunchbox. That was what attracted me to observe him at first. He had a messy, chocolate brown mop of hair and cool blue eyes. His name was Bartholomew.
For some reason he took the seat next to me on April morning. I don't know, maybe he had been interested in me too. It didn't matter. We didn't have any classes together. I seized the opportunity. "Do you wanna be in a band?" I asked before I'd even introduced myself.
He looked at me slowly and I saw his fingers meaningfully brush the guitar sticker. "I don't know how to play any instrument," he replied, effectively giving me the conditions for his entry.
I shook my head. "I don't care. I stink anyway."
"Okay."
That was all it took. Bartholomew (he was never called anything else by anyone) came over to George's house the following afternoon. He was quiet, but George liked him immediately and seconded my judgment in the matter. More important than actual musical ability was the passion for music and the right temperment to get along with George, Tom, and me. When we started up our practicing: drums, guitar, and mandolin with some spotty vocals, I could just see the light in his eyes come alive. Beyond the hair cut by his mom and the chicken salad sandwich was the spirit of rock and roll. When he got to know the tune he hummed.
After a few sessions in George's garage, George gave him a tambourine- making him our official "tambourine girl." He protested the title, but not the task. His face was so serious at school, but when we played you could see that he was the youngest one of us 'cause his smile was so cute.
One day out of the blue he started singing along with George and his goofy mandolin. I didn't really know why then, but hearing their voices meld and mix, I was jealous it was George he was singing with and not me. He had a beautiful voice. We were all sort of stunned and when George jerkily stopped playing, we all stared at Bartholomew in silence for a few minutes until George said, "I suppose my days as lead vocalist here are numbered."