Okay. There's a story I'm writing, and I just finished the prologue, and was wondering if any one would help out.
It's a about 2 pages long. Short for a prologue, I know. I've posted it in the Artist's corner in the forums, and no one seems to respond to it, so, I'm hoping to get ideas and criticism here. Thank you!
Here it is:
Vincent Davidson looked up from his work and growled. He couldn't think at all! What was wrong with him today? Usually lyrics poured from his hands unto the paper. He took the piece of paper he had been trying to write on, and crumpled it up, then threw it in the near by trashcan. They were expecting real music, not some third-graders attempt at a poem. He'd been in a slump for a few days now, and he and the band he was in were expected to perform at dance at their school, Avon View High School located somewhere in Windsor, Nova Scotia.
The dance was in exactly one month, and a few talent scouts would be there. Warner Music Group, EMI, Sony BMG, and Universal Music Group, otherwise known as the Big Four, all had scouts coming to see the show. And if he had no new songs for the band to play, what chance in hell do they have of being signed? Days like these, He hated the music industry, always pushing struggling artists out, leaving only space for those who were perfect.
Vincent looked over across his bedroom, and into the mirror that was placed on the back wall beside his bed. He liked his looks, even though he wasn't the cutest/hottest/sexiest guy at his school, he did have a fair share of admirers. He had short, neat blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Simple. He wore only long sleeved shirts, even on the hottest days in the summer. It was his style. He wore a necklace around his neck with a guitar pick attached to it. The guitar pick had once belonged to his dad, who had passed away a few years ago.
The incident that had killed his father happened when Vincent had been ten, and, for awhile, because of his father heading to a music recording studio when he was killed, he hated anything to do with music. But, upon realizing how well he himself could sing, and how amazing it felt to do so, he began to wear the pick. That was six years ago. Making Vincent sixteen.
Vincent stood up lazily, and headed towards his bed, and threw himself unto it, ruining the once perfect neatness of the blue sheets. Maybe some sleep would help? Who knew what could happen in a simple dream, maybe then he could write out some lyrics.
Meanwhile, a few streets away from Vincent, lived another person in the lovely band. Seth Walters.
Seth had short brown hair, always neatly done, and always looked wet because of Seth's tendency to shower once in the morning, as soon as he got home from school, and right before bed. He also had a small problem with his original eye color, green, because it made him look like his older brother, so he wore red color contacts.
If there was one thing Seth hated, it was being mistaken for his older brother. Or being called gay, but that was a much rarer thing, and only Damian did it, and only because of how feminine he looked. Seth played the drums in the band, seeing as he refused to learn anything else, and originally took up drums to annoy his brother and parents.
Now, don't get him wrong, Seth doesn't dislike his parents all together, he just hates how they, and his brother, ignore him so they can focus on the family business. Walters Tech-corp. The worlds 5th largest supplier of TVs, Computers, and Mp3 players. He hated that company. It had taken everything important from him. Parents, his only sibling, a chance at a normal life. Everything. And it had been replaced with a mansion, fortune, servants, and anything else Seth's heart desired. Except what he wanted most. His family.
Seth walked over to his drum set, and grabbed his drumsticks from off his bedroom floor. Silently, he sat down behind the yellow drum set, and started to play a simple beat.
Despite all he had been given, he hated nearly everything in his life, except his drums, and his band.
In another part of town, there was a small blue house. This is where the bassist, Kriss Andrews lived. Yelling could be heard from the living room in all parts of the house, at almost anytime, usually the yelling was done by either Kriss's sister, Sarah, or her older brother, Derek. Which was currently happening now. Sarah and Derek, were currently in the middle of one of their huge arguments, which meant that Kriss would lock herself in her room until they finished. Kriss groaned as she lay on her bed, flipping so she lay on her front. A magazine in hand, the one almost every teen girl had a subscription to, J-14. How she wished she could've been born with the looks those stars had, instead of her Plain-Jane looks. She hardly considered herself 'pretty' after all, that was, one thing in her mind, she was not. She had light brown hair, which reached her shoulders, and was layered. While her eyes were an eerie cross between blue and gray. Which is another reason she didn't consider herself pretty. Her eyes were an Un-natural color, and they were her original eye color too! And since everyone in her family had the same eye color as she, she wasn't allowed to use color contacts. Even when Seth had kindly offered to buy her a pair of simple light green ones she had seen when shopping with him. Kriss sighed. What she wouldn't give to be pretty and thin like the actresses and singers in her magazine.
Kriss flinched when she heard something break below her. Knowing her siblings, they'd blame her, they always did when mom and dad weren't home. It was nothing new to Kriss, to receive blame for something her siblings did. It happened nearly everyday. Kriss's parents would come home. They'd see what had happened, her siblings would blame her, she'd get pulled out of her room, yelled at, have something taken away for a week, and she'd return to her room.
Lucky her, they didn't know about the stuff Seth and Vincent had given her. Her laptop which Seth had surprised her with on her birthday last year, on which he had also given her, her Mp3 player, and a tablet to go with the laptop as well. Vincent had supplied her with her cherished art supplies, sketchbooks, colored pencils, mechanical pencils, and all sorts of other things she'd need. Kriss let out another sigh as she heard the door to the house open and close twice. Her parents were home, which meant her siblings had stopped fighting, and were working on a way to pin the blame on her. Kriss knew this for sure, when a very loud, very angry voice summoned her from her room.
Damian Nicholson is the guitarist in the band, and the last of them as well. He lived in a white house, right beside Kriss's. And currently, was watching as her parents yelled at her. Ah, the privileges of staying in the room across from hers, even if it was in a different house. All he had to do was jump over from his balcony on to hers, and they could talk to each other face to face. But- If he did so right now, Kriss would get into worse trouble, and he didn't want that.
Besides, he wasn't ready for anyone to see him, after all, he had just gotten out of the shower, and had yet to change, and for that matter, he probably should shut his window and close the pretty green curtains he had, but it wasn't like Kriss was paying attention, and for that matter too, she had already seen him naked before on countless occasions where he had, had the stupidity to get wasted, or forgotten to close the curtains, and he learned that, well, she didn't really care anyways. She never even looked out her window-door thing except when he was knocking on it, trying to get her to open it up, or when she was trying to get his attention.
So, he proceeded to change into a plain brown long sleeve shirt, and his blue boxers, his night clothes. Lazily, he put up his long blonde hair into a high pony-tail, leaving the extra strands down which covered the right side of his face. His brown eyes had the same playful look in them that they had always had, the same smile he always had implanted on his pale face. Damian carefully slipped two hair clips into the hair covering the right of his face, in order to keep it from moving to far onto his face.
He silently turned on his TV, and lay on his bed, his favorite show was on, INVADER ZIM! But, soon enough, he fell asleep to GIR's and ZIM's silliness.
These four people formed the band known as 'Bunch of Sheep', an unknown, Un-popular band, based in Windsor, Nova Scotia, Canada. Vincent Davidson, the vocalist and song-writer. Seth Walters, the drummer. Kriss Andrews, the bassist, and back-up vocals. And Damian Nicholson, the guitarist, and the other back-up vocalist. This is their story of their ups and downs, and their experiences in their band.
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