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Proluge
Do you know what it’s like to be a moon among the stars? Story of my life.
Everyone in my family, and I do mean everyone, has a special talent. My mom is a famous singer, my dad an actor and my brother is following in his footsteps. I won’t even get started on my two sisters.
It’s really depressing. Anytime I go somewhere it’s always “Aren’t you the daughter of Sarah Will?” or “hey, look, its Jasmine Wills little sister!” Just once I’d like to hear my name instead of being someone’s daughter or sister. But outside of our house, it’s like I don’t exist.
Actually, I think my parents forget about me sometimes, too. Like, their minds are so full that they can only think about the ones who show up in magazines or T.V. Even the DOG has more flare than I do.
So, yeah, being a moon among stars, I have no effect, compared to the sparkle light that they have. It seems that even the soft, brightness of silver is drowned out. I don’t stand a chance.
Chapter 1
“Moon Delores Wills, if you do not get out of that bed, I will come up there personally!”
“Well, giving anyone this kind of name is just asking for rebellion,” I muttered to myself. Besides, my mother actually walking all the way to my room was about as likely as the moon going supernova. I was given the room at the end of the hall. The smallest, dustiest, most horrid room in history. And people say that the middle child is loved. Ha! Whoever believes that is deranged. Why was I given the smallest room when I’m the tallest one? Simply, my non-existent friend, because I am not special in any way, shape, form or thought. Of course the parents get the biggest room, but does my sister honestly need the view room to inspire her …art( if you can call it that)? Or how about Evan, who claims that he, needs enough room to practice his most dramatic scenes to perfect his auditions? What auditions? He has no auditions, and no the school play doesn’t count.
“MOON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” Singing really does give you powerful lungs.
I ran down the stairs, two at a time, and slammed into a wall. A warm, breathing wall. A wall named Dad.
“Why would you be standing at the foot of the stairs? So some unsuspecting person can run down all 34 stair and slam into you? What kind of person are you?” I sighed. “That’s a shame, Dad.”
My father eyed me and let loose a chortle. “Calm down. Why were you running down the stairs anyway?”
If there was anyone to make you stop and stare, it would be Dad. He was tall, brown, and handsome. When he smiled it was warm and inviting, an actor’s smile, and I loved it. But what really catches you, would be his eyes. Mom likes to joke around and say the only reason she married him is for his eyes, those “Devilish brown and hazel eyes.”
Dad is the only person who I have to look up to and he is the only person who can still pick me up.
Like he was doing now. “Moon, as much as I would like to stand and argue with about the dangers of stairwells, I really need to go upstairs and make a call.”
a call?" who are you calling?"dont say producer,dont say producer,dont say producer......
"My producer of course."
Aughh!
 dragoon_gurl · Sun Aug 10, 2008 @ 05:06pm · 1 Comments |
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