The Show Must Go On

He sat, squashed into the corner. Arms tightly hugging his bent knees close to his chest, his head resting on them. He had been there so long that he had lost track of exactly how long he'd been there. It could have been hours, or it could have been mere minutes. Whichever one it was, to Paul, it felt like forever.

"P..Paul." It was a light, gentle voice that caused Paul to finally shift his gaze upward from his knees to see Clea, his assistant, on her knees beside him. "Paul," she said again. "what's wrong?"
"I... I don't think I can do this anymore Clea," he said, timidly meeting his gaze with a tear-stained face.
"Why not?" she asked, her gentle voice quiet.
"Because..." he said. "There's too much... Too much hate..."
"Oh come on Paul!" she said. "You've had hate before I know you have."
He nods. "I know, but it's... it just seems worse this time, somehow. Would anybody want to take it anymore?"
"Paul,.." Clea began. She paused, then spoke again, "do you know how many people look up to you? Do you know how much of an inspiration you are? Do you know how much love there is?" Paul blinked. "There's hate, yes," she went on. "But there's love too. So much love."
"Really?" Paul said weakly. Clea turned the tablet she was holding around. At the top of the screen was a search, for #perryroberts. Below it were countless messages.
Where are you Perry? 
Perry, please come back. We need you! 
The world needs Perry Roberts! Please come back to us! 
Perry has helped so many of us here. It's our turn to help him now. 

"Can you see Paul?" Clea said. "Can you see how much you're loved? Look at how much influence you have Paul!" Clea jumped up and down on her tiptoes a few times in excitement. "You can use that influence Paul! Use it for good!" Paul nodded.
"Besides, what's quitting now going to do? It'll let the haters win! Do you really want that, Paul?" Ashamedly, he shook his head. "So come on then, get up, wipe off that dust and on with the show!" She reached out to him, pulling him up when he took her hand.

"You know Clea, you're right," said Paul, on his feet again."Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance. I truly don't know what I'd do without you. Thank you."
"Anytime, sir." A small smile appeared on her lips.
"I'll face it with a grin, I'm never giving in. On with the show!" said Paul. "Besides," he continued after a few minutes, "I couldn't possibly let all of these people down." Clea was nodding as he spoke. He glanced to the window, outside of which a brilliant sunrise was happening. "Outside, the dawn is breaking, but here, inside in the dark, I'm aching to be free."
"So be free, my beautiful bird," said Clea, her smile as large as it could grow. "Be free and fly!"

Paul returned to his office and took to social media to announce his return, posting a video to thank all of his fans for their patience and support, say that he would be fighting the hate and the haters and, to declare a comeback concert.

In the wings, right before his public return, Paul looked back and smiled at his assistant. "Thank you, Clea May," he said. She simply nodded, reaching out to touch a hand to his forearm.
"I know," she said, "I know that inside your heart is breaking,"
"My make-up my be flaking,"he agreed, smiling too.
"But your smile still stays on."
"The show must go on," they said together, squeezing one another's hands before he let go and walked out onto the stage with a roaring welcome from the crowd of his adoring fans.

_________________________________________________________________________________
This is a continuation of the story of Perry Roberts. Go back to where it started here and here.

Moments & Memories

Imagine this; you're sitting high up on a cliff somewhere. The views are vast and picturesque, people are so far away that they look like ants. It's just you up there. The world is yours. There are no worries, no fears, no bad feelings at all. Just this overwhelming happiness. This light. This feeling like you're on top of the world. Euphoria. Everyone loves that feeling. Anyone would do anything to have it be eternal.

Up there in your little bubble, you're so far away from everything, yet it's all right there. It becomes background. It might be quiet, just that nice kind of quiet. Or it could be loud. Your ears could be filled with the music you love. You could have been absorbed completely in a story, as if you're in it's world. Wherever you are, you're free. Free from life's troubles, and the day to day problems of everyday life. You're having such a good time! Nothing can stop you now...

The dreaded crash will inevitably follow that unbeatable high. You'll want to chase it. It's there, right there. Just outside of your grasp. You're blind but for your pursuit of that escape. You'd do anything to get that feeling back. You want to be stuck in that moment. You wish more than anything that the feeling would last forever. You want it all, and you want it now. You've only got one mission. Everything else is just radio gaga,  Isn't it a shame that you can't just  turn back the clock?

That's the sad reality, You can't turn back the clock. That escape may be gone, but it should not be forgotten. Because that escape happened, and from it, you can take a multitude of memories with you on your way. To cheer you up, to make you smile and laugh. To help you remember that you have escaped, and that escape will come again. You just need to keep dancing through life. Remember, your future is unlimited.Because things happen and come into our lives bringing with them something we must learn. So hold on to those memories. Let them remind you of the good as you just keep dancing through....

So keep your memories. Hold them close. Let them remind you that good has been and that good will come again. Let them help you to keep it positive. With the chance you've been given, you need to be driven as hell. Give the future a chance. Don't forget you have a future, and hope as each new day dawns. Your world may not be that bad. Look up. Look hard enough and you might just find a small break in the clouds. They may be few, and sometimes far between, but just look. There will be silver linings among the clouds if you only look,

Everyone knows that with good comes bad, and with bad comes good. You can't turn back the clock, it's sad but true. There will be moments where everything feels like it's out of control. There will be moments when the world will seem like it's spinning and there will be moments when it feels like nothing in the world will be good again. But, there will also be moments of sheer joy. There will be moments when you feel on top of the world, like nothing can touch you anymore. There will be moments of escape. So embrace it, embrace it all and live in the moment as you're dancing through life. But don't forget to keep it positive. Hold those treasured memories close and look for the break among those clouds. But most of all, remember, good has been and good will come again. 

Let The Music Set You Free

She sat, staring unseeingly out the window. She was lost. In her own world, perhaps, or maybe her thoughts. In any case she was lost. Physically, her body was there, but who knew where her mind had gone to, only that it was far, far away from here. If it even was here or whether it had disappeared altogether. Nobody knew. But, she jumped at the sound of a faint whisper in her head. Make a big noise. You're gonna take on the world someday...

Around the seemingly mind-absent girl, people sat motionlessly, silently staring at glowing, blaring screens. They could have been described as zombies, robots, apparently robbed of the most important aspect of their minds, like the girl. But she was different. They acted like mindless drones, travelling from screen to screen, each the same as the others, each individual indistinguishable from the rest. Uniform. She was not like them. She was not dressed as they were. She did not move from screen to screen. She did not move at all, as if she were frozen in time. She heard nothing at all, while all they heard was radio gaga.

One day, something miraculous happened. The world, filled with endless white noise suddenly silenced, but only for a moment. One brief moment before another sound played. A continuous sound with rhythm, beat, melodies and harmonies unlike anything anyone had heard before. They reacted transiently before returning to their screens. But something within her had been ignited. At last, she turned away from the window, filled with curiosity at the novel noise. She was different, special.

This intriguing new sound, it turned out, was music. As technology had taken over this new world, this wonderful, joyous thing had been lost, almost completely. So now, at the sudden reappearance of it, something old was new again, and she was reinvigorated. New life had been breathed into her, and, it seemed, she was suddenly alive again. Now, she thought, I'm here.

Little did those around her realise, for they were still stuck in their zombie mode, she was embracing the spark of her spontaneously re-ignited life. The music had given her her life back, and now, she basked in it's newness. Because it, and the beauty it's sounds created seemed so familiar to her. So natural. She started moving around, waving her arms around. Smiling. Dancing, and allowing the music entering her ears to flow through her completely, filling her with sheer joy and calm in the process. These are the days...

Having discovered various pictures of musicians, she realised that unlike those around her, who all looked the same, the people in the pictures all looked different. No two people really looked alike,
and she realised, she did too. She had always known she was different, but now, she also realised that being different was ok. She looked at the others. The zombie clones, and shook her head. She wanted, desperately, to break free. One day, she thought, I'm gonna be free.

At this realisation, she knew that, not only that she wanted to break free, but that she needed to. But, she also knew, looking around her, that she'd have to make it on her own. So, she took a breath, returning to where the others sat, still mindlessly glued to their screens. "Let the music set you free. Let it flow through you and encourage you to move. Let it ignite your soul, warm your heart and let it set you free." She said as she left. She didn't know how the music worked. But, even if she had known, she would have left it on anyway, clinging to one last hope that they too, might one day be freed as she had been. She turned to face the door, reaching out to cautiously, slowly, open it. In the world beyond, she spied a single, shining light. So she set about following it, this one shaft of light that somehow, seemed to show the way.

Why?

Why. It's the question everybody asks when something bad happens. Why me? Why did this have to happen? Why did they have to go? Why did they leave me? Why them and not me? Why, just, why?

The man stands outside, throwing a raging tantrum at the sky. Screaming at it, why, over and over. The woman is furiously, painfully pummeling the ground with her fist, a river of tears falling freely down her face as she asks the same question in a whisper. Why? 

The girl, phone held loosely in her hand as the tears start. Yet, she looks so mad, you can practically see the steam blasting from her ears. Then the tears take over once more. "Why?" she manages to get out, her voice heavy with sobs as she chokes the small word out between them. As the phone falls from her loosened grip, she drops heavily to her knees on the floor. She's staring at the ground, without really seeing it. Why? I don't understand? Why did he break up with me? Why, just why.

Why. The question that never seems to get answered. A million people yell it up at the sky. At some higher power who could be up there, supposedly controlling everything. But this higher power never bothers to respond. It never dignifies all of these people with an answer to their desperate. So it hangs lingeringly in the air. Why. The momentous question so often asked by people in one last, desperate attempt at clarity. One last clinging hope at understanding A question so often asked, but so often left unanswered. So often that this small, pivotal question becomes something of an anticlimax. Why!? Why? 

Why. The ever unanswered question. Does it even have an answer? Or, is it a question without an answer? Who can answer? But, if there is an answer, what would it bring? More despair? More anger, hurt, or upset? Or comfort? Closure, clarity?

The Tale of the Three Brothers: Short Film Tribute

Some regular readers may remember the story I posted in tribute to English actors Christopher Lee and Alan Rickman in January following their passing. Today, I'd like to share a short film I've made from the story, featuring the actors and in tribute to them.

It should be noted that I am by no means a professional in the world of film, so I apologise if it's not of the best quality. Also, there is intentionally no sound for the first 20-30 seconds of the video, so don't worry if you can't hear anything to begin with.

Read the original story here and take a look at the video below. I hope you enjoy it!

On A Rainy Day

At first, it was so light, you could hardly tell it was raining at all. Then, it started to get heavier. You could hear it tapping against the roof. You could see it falling from the angry black storm clouds covering every single inch of the sky above. It was pouring down, bucketing. There were puddles everywhere. It had rained so much that it seemed a wonder there was any water left to fall. But fall it did. It did not stop. It didn't improve, instead, it stayed a as it was or grew heavier. A constant, at times deafening pitter patter on roofs that brought with it a bitter, dreary cold. And wet.

Granddad ran without hesitation outside into the sprinkling rain. He spread his arms wide, turning his face up to the sky with, we all hoped, his eyes closed. He spin round in gleeful circles. His young great-grandson followed him out, a big smile on his face. At the door, he pulled on his gumboots with great effort before running clumsily after the old man. His wrinkled face lights up with joy as he turns to see the bumbling toddler coming toward him. The toddler's face reflects the absolute delight in his own. The old man bends down, easily lifting the young boy into the air, proceeding to waltz the two of them around the yard, singing a tune we cannot here from where we are watching, the sound of the rain drowning it out completely, as the young boy laughs uncontrollably. He leans back in Granddad's arms as he does so, spreading his arms and allowing the cool raindrops to fall on his face.

The young boy's mother, my sister, wanders nearby, open umbrella in hand as she gently runs her fingers across the delicate, wet flower petals. Every so often she glances over at the toddler and the old man, a small smile on her lips as she watches them, happily oblivious to most of the world but each other and the rain falling down on them.

In the next room, my brother sits, hands hugging his knees to his chest and a big fat frown on his face. Sulking. Because the power's out and he can't sit glued to technology as he does most of the time. He spends so much time with technology that he has no idea what to do without it. He has no plan B, and so he sits, staring off into space, sulking. The most we get from his a groan. Now that our parents have gone crook at him for repeatedly asking things they can't possibly know the answer to. Why is the power out? When will it come back? How long will it take for the power to come back on?

With a heavy sigh, I turn to look back out the window at Granddad, my sister and her son. All joyously soaking up the now pouring rain. All seems quiet, pretty, serene. Until it's not. Suddenly, with a loud crush bang, my mother bursts into the room, rushing past me in a flying blur and roaring through the back door. She lifts a newspaper I hadn't noticed her holding  over her head and runs out to Granddad. "Dad!" I hear her yell through the door, "what do you think you're doing!?" I glance at my sister, who is unobtrusively watching on while pretending to still be absorbed in the wet flower petals in the garden.
"And stringing Nile along for the ride!?" Mum goes on. She glances at my sister. "Lilly at least had the good sense to fetch her umbrella." In unison, my sister and I roll our eyes behind our mother's back. "Dad! You'll fall ill! Come on, back inside," Mum reaches out to lead Granddad away, but he shrugs her off.

Miraculously at that moment, the rain slows right down. Granddad points up. My mother, sister and I all follow his gaze to see a faint but bright rainbow has appeared in the sky. "Look, see?" He says, softly, gently turning back to my mother. "Rain doesn't have to be bad, all dark and gloomy. It can be beautiful, joyous." The wide beam on Granddad's face appears inerasable

I smile. I like Grandad's outlook. His view. There's nearly always a rainbow after the rain, I can remember him telling me once. You shouldn't let anybody take it from you.