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 Posted: Wed Oct 28, 2009 10:40 am
This is a simple little thing I did for class, but the litererary critics tore it apart. I want more than the reactions from my teacher and classmates. Please read and comment!The Music Still Plays
“The East Wind and the Fire of the Sky; See the famous Carval twins live! Oct. 13th-15th only!” The poster was plastered to the wall, displaying two strained, smiling faces along with the bright, obnoxious words. The girl depicted in the upper left corner of the poster stood near the wall, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. She tossed her head, flipping the few loose strands of her messy blonde hair over her shoulder. Her oriental fans, one in each hand, snapped open and closed repeatedly, the pattern of flashy orange and gold koi swimming through the humid air. The girl frowned a little, the expression darkening her soft, childish face. Her companion (also displayed on the annoying poster) paced around her, his identical blonde hair hanging in damp strands around his ears as he stared at the floor.
No older than eleven, these two were none other than the world-famous dancers: Shiva Carval and her twin brother Zain. Currently on their third US tour, they waited backstage for their last performance of the night. Already, the tension of the thousands of people in the audience infected the air. Zain stopped and glanced at his sister. There was pain in his face as he took a deep breath. Shiva beat him to it.
“Please Zain, not tonight. It’s just-”
Her brother sighed and waved a hand at her. Resuming his pacing, Zain tried not to look completely unhappy.
A heavy door was opened, shuddering as it collided with the solid brick wall. A figure in fitted black clothes, dark-haired and dark aired, entered the warm backstage area. The only contrast was the silvery-blue reflection from the sunglasses he invariably wore. Shiny black shoes clicked somewhat intimidatingly on the hardwood floor.
“Good, you’re ready.” His voice was approving, yet displeased. Shiva was unwilling to look at the dark man, and stared at her fans instead.
“Hullo Cousin.” The greeting came in unison from both of them, and neither sounded excited. While his sister’s tone took on a resigned note, Zain glared at their cousin and trainer. Cousin didn’t hesitate as he clicked his tongue softly.
“Zain, you know if you do that too often, your face will stick like that,” Cousin tutted, taking a step forward.
The boy glared aggressively, placing himself between his trainer and his sister. He looked determined, but there was a smug smile on the older male’s face.
“We don’t wanna do this anymore, Cousin!” Zain growled.
“What about all your fans?” Pulling a long face, the darker, suave cousin of the young twins made a stab at looking concerned. The scene was interrupted as the stage manager poked his head around the projector screen.
“Four minutes ‘til show time!”
“Four minutes, thank you.” The automatic response came from Shiva and her brother as they turned to look at him. The manager grinned and gave them a thumbs-up before retreating out of sight.
“Like you care about my fans,” grumbled Zain, but Shiva touched his shoulder lightly. As one, the twins relaxed slightly. Separate, they were just scared kids, but together they were the idols of millions.
“You don’t act much like you care either,” taunted Cousin, smiling to himself. The boy stiffened, the touch of his sister doing little to calm him now.
Either one of them could have walked home and back again in the time it took the stage manager to call to the twins, letting them know that their song was starting. The guitar strummed, meeting the rhythm set by the throbbing drums. Together, Shiva and Zain bounded out onto the stage, echoed by their background dancers entering from the other side. There were five of them in all, dressed in red and orange to match Shiva’s ornate costume. The two of them danced; stepping, turning, jumping, stomping, waving, and tumbling as they played off of one another, interrupting their routine every now and then to improvise. The background dancers compensated when they could, but with eleven-year-olds, there was just no telling what came next. Their trainer stood behind the projector screen, frowning; improvising was not on the ‘approved’ list.
Breaking away from his sister, Zain leapt spectacularly in time with the crescendo marking the end of the song. Shiva’s expression didn’t change as she watched her brother, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes as Zain’s body twisted through the air in an impressive flip. Unaware of the meaning behind Zain’s dramatic collapse, the audience began to scream. Arms, hair and hats were flung about and sometimes thrown in fits of girly fanaticism. The boy landed solidly on his feet and promptly dropped dramatically to his knees. Unheard under the roar of the crowd and the final notes of the song, something in his left leg cracked painfully. Regaining his feet, Zain took his sister’s hand and grinned at the audience, bowing with a flourish. Together, they exited the stage to let the background dancers handle the interlude. As soon as they were out of sight, Zain’s grin vanished.
“Are you okay?” Shiva’s voice was unsteady as her brother put nearly all of his weight on her. The boy made small whimpering sounds as the tears began to stream down his face and he grabbed his left knee. The family doctor rushed over, his black medical bag bumping against his legs. Guiding Zain over to the couch, the man began to quiz him on where it hurt and ‘why in the world was he doing dangerous stunts on stage again.’ As his baggy pants were pushed up to allow the doctor to inspect his knee, Zain noticed their trainer strolling over slowly.
“What happened this time?” Cousin drawled, looking supremely uninterested. The doctor glanced up, disapproval in his pale, lined face.
“A possible hairline fracture in his knee, a strained tendon and damaged cartilage as well…” The doctor pulled a face, prodding the boy’s knee with gentle fingers. “He probably shouldn’t strain this with athletic activities any time soon.”
Zain made a faint sound of triumph, shooting a teary glance at the older male. “I won’t dance any more. Not now. Not ever.” He bit his lip, making a face that clearly displayed the pain he was in. Their trainer lifted an eyebrow.
“Will this injury cause any permanent damage if he dances?” Cousin’s dark hair fell into his face, obscuring part of the silver reflection of his sunglasses. The doctor blanched, apparently reluctant to answer.
Zain frowned defiantly, glaring at Cousin. Shiva winced as her brother sat up a little straighter. She hurt even as her brother hurt.
“No! I won’t dance again.” Zain announced stubbornly. Shiva trembled, hoping nothing bad would happen. She was scared now. Cousin’s smirk morphed into a dark scowl.
“You don’t have a choice, Zain Carval. Your father and I agree that continuing is good for you, and your bank account.” The older male’s voice was a borderline snarl, challenging his young cousin to deny this statement. The boy puffed out his narrow chest and sat up as straight as he could, not daring to stand while the doctor was still bandaging his knee.
“I do too have a choice! You can’t make me.”
Cousin’s scowl deepened slightly and for a moment it looked as though he were ready to give in and let the kid have his way. It only lasted a moment. “You will dance.” Reaching into his pocket, Cousin withdrew a slim, black cell phone. He flipped it open, thumb poised over the 1.
“I really protest this,” the doctor objected quietly. “It would not benefit anyone for Zain to dance again.” No one paid him any attention. The bandaging was complete, and Zain stood slowly, testing his leg. The boy looked anywhere but at the phone his trainer was holding. He knew that there was only one number that merited the speed-dial; his father.
“10 seconds!” called the stage manager, flashing them a grin as he passed.
“10 seconds, thank you.” Zain’s reply was barely audible as he lifted his head. Without another word, he limped toward the stage. His dance was about to start.
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Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 3:42 pm
This is the same story as above, but with some major modifications. Tell me what you think, eh?
The Music Still Plays
“The East Wind and the Fire of the Sky; See the famous Carval twins live! Oct. 13th-15th only!” The poster was plastered to the wall, displaying two strained, smiling faces along with the bright, obnoxious words. The girl depicted in the upper left corner of the poster stood near the wall, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. She tossed her head, flipping the few loose strands of her messy blonde hair over her shoulder. Her oriental fans, one in each hand, snapped open and closed repeatedly, the pattern of flashy orange and gold koi swimming through the humid air. Dressed in a bright scarlet kimono, patterned with large, spiralling flowers, the girl looked like a blonde china doll. She frowned a little, the expression darkening her soft, childish face. Her companion (also displayed on the poster) paced around her, his identical blonde hair hanging in damp strands around his ears as he stared at the floor. Having refused to wear the oriental costume prepared for him, the boy was dressed in baggy, dull red pants and a plain orange shirt.
No older than eleven, these two were none other than the world-famous dancers: Shiva Carval and her twin brother Zain. Currently on their third US tour, they waited backstage for their last performance of the night. Chicago was proving to be a popular place. Already, the tension of the thousands of people in the audience infected the air. Zain stopped and glanced at his sister. There was pain in his face as he took a deep breath. Shiva beat him to it.
“Please Zain, not tonight. It’s just-”
Her brother sighed and waved a hand at her. Resuming his pacing, Zain tried not to look completely unhappy.
A heavy door was opened, shuddering as it collided with the solid brick wall. Despite size of the theatre, the presence of yet another person, adding to the rush backstage (all trying to get something done) seemed to make it even more cramped. Fear and excitement, along with the dim light, warm air and hushed voices, emphasized the looming performance. A figure in fitted black clothes, dark-haired and dark aired, approached the twins. The only contrast was the silver-blue reflection from the sunglasses he invariably wore. Polished black shoes clicked intimidatingly on the hardwood floor.
“Good, you’re ready.” His voice was approving, yet displeased. Shiva was unwilling to look at the dark man, and stared at her fans instead.
“Hullo Cousin.” The greeting came in unison from both of them, and neither sounded excited. While his sister’s tone took on a resigned note, Zain glared at their cousin and trainer. Cousin didn’t hesitate as he clicked his tongue softly.
“Zain, you know if you do that too often, your face will stick like that,” Cousin tutted, taking a step forward.
The boy glared aggressively, placing himself between his trainer and his sister. He looked determined, but there was a smug smile on the older male’s face.
“We don’t wanna do this anymore, Cousin!” Zain growled.
“What about all your fans?” Pulling a long face, the dark, suave cousin of the young twins made a stab at looking concerned. The scene was interrupted as the stage manager poked his head around the projector screen.
“Four minutes ‘til show time!”
“Four minutes, thank you.” The automatic response came from Shiva and her brother as they turned to look at him. The manager grinned and gave them a thumbs-up before retreating out of sight.
“Like you care about my fans,” grumbled Zain, but Shiva touched his shoulder lightly. As one, the twins relaxed slightly. Separate, they were just scared kids, but together they were the idols of millions.
“You don’t act much like you care either,” taunted Cousin, smiling to himself. The boy stiffened, the touch of his sister doing little to calm him now.
Either one of them could have walked home and back again in the time it took the stage manager to call to the twins, letting them know that their song was starting. The guitar strummed, meeting the rhythm set by the throbbing drums. Together, Shiva and Zain bounded out onto the stage, echoed by their background dancers entering from the other side. Flares set along the edge of the stage showered the hardwood with sparks. There were five background dancers in all, dressed in red and orange to match Shiva’s ornate costume. The twins danced; stepping, turning, jumping, stomping, waving, and tumbling as they played off of one another, interrupting their routine to improvise. The background dancers compensated when they could, but with eleven-year-olds, there was just no telling what came next. Their trainer stood behind the projector screen, frowning; improvising was not on the ‘approved’ list.
Breaking away from his sister, Zain leapt spectacularly in time with the crescendo marking the end of the song. Shiva’s expression didn’t change as she watched her brother, but there was a flicker in her eyes as Zain’s body twisted through the air in an impressive flip. Unaware of the meaning behind Zain’s dramatic collapse, the audience began to scream. Arms, hair and hats were flung about and sometimes thrown in fits of girly fanaticism. The boy landed solidly on his feet and promptly dropped dramatically to his knees. Unheard under the roar of the crowd and the final notes of the song, something in his left leg cracked painfully. Regaining his feet, Zain took his sister’s hand and grinned at the audience, bowing with a flourish. Together, they exited the stage to let the background dancers handle the interlude. As soon as they were out of sight, Zain’s grin vanished.
“Are you okay?” It was Cousin that asked, his brow furrowed behind his silver glasses. The boy made small whimpering sounds as the tears began to stream down his face. Shiva supported her brother’s weight on one side, and Cousin supported the other. Guiding Zain over to the couch, the twins’ trainer began to question him on where it hurt and ‘why in the world was he doing dangerous stunts on stage again.’ Cousin’s bravado wasn’t as forceful as usual and he bit his lip, pushing the younger boy’s baggy pants up to allow him to inspect the injured knee.
“What is it?” asked Shiva, sounding distinctly like a small, scared child. Cousin cast her a sidelong look and grimaced.
“It’s his knee. A strained tendon, some damaged cartilage, and a possible hairline fracture…” The trainer pulled a face, prodding the boy’s knee with gentle fingers. “You probably shouldn’t dance together for a while.” A shadow of painful memories stained the bright reflection of Cousin’s spotless sunglasses. He had been fifteen when his own career had been ruined by a similar accident.
Zain frowned at his trainer in mock disappointment. “I guess I can’t dance tonight then.” Cousin grimaced, but before he could comment, a tall, sallow Caucasian man with blonde hair and wielding a silver microphone stomped up behind him, treating the entire backstage area like it was his personal runway.
“What’s holding up the show?” the blonde man demanded, glaring at Cousin. The darker of the two adults quickly busied himself with bandaging Zain’s knee. “What happened this time?”
“Father,” Shiva whispered, looking quite terrified. It was rare to see Father backstage during an act.
“I’m afraid that stunt on stage hurt our performer here and he won’t be able to-” Cousin’s explanation was cut short.
“Anyway, I don’t wanna dance any more!” Zain sounded defiant, but he shrank from his father’s attention as the man’s angry blue eyes fell on him.
“You don’t have a choice, Zain Skyfire Carval. I know what’s best for you. And I say finishing your dance is best for you and your bank account.” There was a challenge in his voice now. He was in charge. He was “overlord.” No one could safely deny his statement. Cousin was the one who broke the spell as he finished bandaging Zain’s knee. Straightening, he took off his silver-blue sunglasses to expose his snappy light brown eyes to the dim backstage light.
“Uncle,” the simplified name made the twins’ father look at Cousin, frowning, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Daniel to dance again tonight.” Zain’s blonde head jerked upward in surprise at the sound of his given name. After all, no one used anything but his stage-name on site. Not even his own parents.
Father’s scowl deepened slightly and for a moment it looked as though he were ready to give in and let the kid have his way. It only lasted a moment. A slow smile crossed his face as he took a step around Cousin. His large, pallid hand came to rest lightly on Shiva’s shoulder and she stiffened, clearly scared out of her mind. Father was angry and he wasn’t trying to hide it at all.
“It would be best for all involved if Zain finished his performance tonight.” There was something of a threat in his quiet voice. The twins glanced at one another, faces pale and scared.
“I really think this is a bad idea,” Cousin objected softly. Father shot him a severe look, and he turned his head, unhappy with his subordinate position. The bandaging was done, and Zain stood slowly, testing his leg. The boy looked anywhere but at his father. He knew there was only one outcome.
“Danny…” Shiva’s voice was quiet, but her twin heard anyway. “Please, don’t-”
“10 seconds!” called the stage manager, flashing them a grin as he passed.
“10 seconds, thank you.” Zain’s reply was barely audible as he lifted his head. He smiled sadly at his sister. “Sorry, Sis.” With that, he limped toward the stage. His dance was about to start.
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 11:02 am
I think.....that I just spent several minetes reading the non-revised version, thinking it was the revised version and I just had a bad memory. razz
So....I'ma go post where I have to in Nomads, come back, read the revised story, and THEN critique it. ^^
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Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 10:11 am
Exellent work Saya! Although I personally preffered the first one, where Cousin was the bad guy. *shrugs* But thats just my oppinion. The only other thing I could say, is that if this father was THAT overbearing, theres no way Zain could get away with not wearing his costume.
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