Watch Over Me
You Cry, But You Don't Tell Anyone
"God?" I whispered. "God, I really don't see why I'm here."
You are here to help Nicholas. He answered. It had been near two weeks since I had been placed here, and nothing seemed wrong.
"But he seems fine. I d-"
Shh.. He told me. I quieted and in the stillness, I heard a soft prayer. I followed the voice to a room which included many instruments. My little Nicholas was seated hunched over a guitar, next to the window. The moon shone brightly upon his face. His words began again, but his lips didn't move. God had momentarily given me his ability to hear thoughts.
God, what am I supposed to do? he thought. I felt creases form in my forehead, due to my confusion. I love my parents, but they don't care what I want. I want to play music, but.. he looked down. Dad wants me to play football. He looked back out the window up at the sky as he softly strummed his guitar. I watched him. Now, as I stared into his eyes, unbeknownst to him, I saw a sadness... A sadness that I'd never noticed in him, before now. He soon sighed and stood. I watched as he placed his guitar on its stand and trudged out the door, running a hand through his curls.
I looked up. "Okay, God." I bit my lip and thought of what I should do. I had to help him, but how could I change this? Or what his parents wanted?
You are here to help Nicholas. He answered. It had been near two weeks since I had been placed here, and nothing seemed wrong.
"But he seems fine. I d-"
Shh.. He told me. I quieted and in the stillness, I heard a soft prayer. I followed the voice to a room which included many instruments. My little Nicholas was seated hunched over a guitar, next to the window. The moon shone brightly upon his face. His words began again, but his lips didn't move. God had momentarily given me his ability to hear thoughts.
God, what am I supposed to do? he thought. I felt creases form in my forehead, due to my confusion. I love my parents, but they don't care what I want. I want to play music, but.. he looked down. Dad wants me to play football. He looked back out the window up at the sky as he softly strummed his guitar. I watched him. Now, as I stared into his eyes, unbeknownst to him, I saw a sadness... A sadness that I'd never noticed in him, before now. He soon sighed and stood. I watched as he placed his guitar on its stand and trudged out the door, running a hand through his curls.
I looked up. "Okay, God." I bit my lip and thought of what I should do. I had to help him, but how could I change this? Or what his parents wanted?
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Hey guys! I'm sorry it's been so long! I got severe writer's block on this story, but I think I know where it's going now, so hang with me. Okay? Thanks for your patience and I'm sorry it's so short!I plan on updating I Am A Rock Star, I Got My Rock Moves. I have several chapters written, I just haven't posted. Again, sorry!
-Taylor ox