Fallen Angel of Stardom
She was beautiful. She was successful. She was talented. Midnight Marin was the poster girl for what every American teenager wanted to be: a star. By the age of thirteen she had already signed up with a band and started composing a new age of rock music. Within two years they were famous. The fifteen year old idol would prance around the stage, a big smile plastered on her red lips as she sung the lyrics the crowd had long memorized. Throwing her natural black hair around Midnight knew she was set for life. She wanted to sing forever, the stage was her life. Sadly, like every teenaged star disaster soon filled her life, and the magazine headlines. Drug use, under aged drinking, anorexia and even sex scandals. No one knew if all this was true or just slander because before it was all resolved Midnight vanished into thin air. Months later her name again reappeared on the head lines. It turned out the young Midnight Marin had run away from her home where it was believed abuse occurred. Her parents, who names remained anonymous had some how drained the minors bank account, leaving her with nothing. Even after all that blew over her face was never seen in public. She had vanished like a ghost in the fog.
The subway below the city was as crowded as it was every evening at 6 pm. People dressed in heavy coats for the winter bustled shoulder to shoulder as they filed into the train to get home. In a way they all looked like mindless clones, filing together routinely to get home at the same time every weekday. Though it was faint, an acoustic guitar could be heard echoing through the subway stations. Occasionally some one would lift their heads and look about looking for the player. A young woman sat against the wall, her legs folded Indian style in front of her as she played little tunes on the plain acoustic guitar on her lap. Next her she left her case open so people could drop loss change or even dollars inside as she played. The girl’s dark hair was cut short, about chin length. It looked stringy, like she had not washed it for a few days. Her clothing was rugged, a baggy dark green coat and a pair of loose jeans. Her shoes were plain black converse, soaking wet from the snow she had trudged through to get to the station. There didn’t seem to be a lick of make up on her face or even a chip of polish on her nails. Looking down at her the people in the station would assume she was homeless. Which was true.
“Thank you.” The girl said as a stranger dropped a dollar in the case. They seemed to be the last person that would, since the station had mostly cleared out. Leaning forward she glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. 8 pm sharp. Lifting herself to her knees she slung the guitar over her back as her hands fished through the case, collecting the money people had dropped in for her. Tonight she had made 13 dollars. With a triumphant grin she tucked the money away into her over sized jacket and put the guitar away. Though no one else would see it, the girl had a poster of Midnight Marin in her case. That was because the homeless girl playing an old acoustic guitar every night on the subway station was Midnight Marin, though no one would notice because she wore no make up, cut her hair was looked older than what they remembered.
“Right,” She said to herself as she stood to her sneakered feet. “time to get something to eat.” Slinging the case over her shoulder she marched up the stairs and onto the snow covered city streets. Pulling her hood over her head she was not just keeping the flurries out of her hair, but covering her face. There still was the slight chance some teenaged girl would recognize her. And that was the last thing Midnight wanted.
