Singing Sketch

I feel like there should be a picture on this post so...here is a picture of a light house.

Now I shall post something a little different from what I've posted before. This is not a story or a poem. It is a little sketch I wrote. What I mean by 'sketch' is a short piece of writing describing a person or scene that I do not want to forget. I may use it on one of my stories later. It is not a boring description I trust. If it is, you can tell me and I'll--I don't know--write you something better...

Singing Sketch

She was a good singer. Her notes were pure and her voice strong. But she flies up and around, warbling first high then low, adding many flourishes and skyrocketing notes, and never gets around to singing the original notes that were written for that song.  I remember one time in particular, the song was drifting along and suddenly, BAM! She’s screaming at me, on key of course. It was one of those songs that everyone half-sings along with, and I did not know where that note came from. It was a lovely note, high and strong and warbley.  It gradually descended in little spurts and backwards trips like one of those tap-dancers  walking down a flight of stairs. They never can walk straight down, they have to hop back up a few steps every so often and just when their about to reach the bottom, they run back up to the middle again.  The only thing that finally stopped the prolonged tap-dancing of her note was she ran out of air, but she held it as long as she could. You could tell, for by the end, she was all hunched over as if she were squeezing the last trickles of air from her lungs. 

Were she not singing, you would have thought her possessed, or at least having a seizure, the way her arms waved in the air. Somehow their flapping helped her sing. I have a strong suspicion that, were she tied to a chair, not one note would be able to pass her brightly painted lips. 

Who actually has brick-red lips? It's unnerving. Especially when they're stretched so wide you wonder if she can unhinge her jaw like a snake. 

 Then she ended with the highest note she could scream, bent nearly double by the power of it. Sweat poured from her forehead. Her mouth was so close to the microphone, there was danger of her choking on it. With one last flourish, she threw her head back and the song was finished. Applause rolled and thundered around her and she stepped, beaming, from the platform. She didn't realize everyone was just glad the football game could start.



That is all. I should have something more exciting to post in a few days.