This was inspired by a dream I had and by Emeli Sandé's 'Read All About It (Part III)'. I wanted to write a long story now that I'm home for the summer, But I'll be trying to post every day.

Emeli Sandé's 'Read All About It (Part III)

You've got the words to change a nation
But you're biting your tongue
You've spent a life time stuck in silence
Afraid you'll say something wrong
If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?

So come on, come on
Come on, come on
You've got a heart as loud as lions
So why let your voice be tamed?
Maybe we're a little different
There's no need to be ashamed
You've got the light to fight the shadows
So stop hiding it away
Come on, come on

I wanna sing, I wanna shout
I wanna scream 'til the words dry out
So put it in all of the papers,
I'm not afraid
They can read all about it
Read all about it, oh
Oh-oh-oh (x6)

At night we're waking up the neighbors
While we sing away the blues
Making sure that we remember, yeah
Cause we all matter too
If the truth has been forbidden
Then we're breaking all the rules

So come on, come on
Come on, come on,
Let's get the TV and the radio
To play our tune again
It's 'bout time we got some airplay of our version of events
There's no need to be afraid
I will sing with you my friend
Come on, come on

I wanna sing, I wanna shout
I wanna scream 'til the words dry out
So put it in all of the papers,
I'm not afraid
They can read all about it
Read all about it, oh
Oh-oh-oh (x6)

Yeah, we're all wonderful, wonderful people
So when did we all get so fearful?
Now we're finally finding our voices
So take a chance, come help me sing this
Yeah, we're all wonderful, wonderful people
So when did we all get so fearful?
And now we're finally finding our voices
Just take a chance, come help me sing this

I wanna sing, I wanna shout
I wanna scream 'til the words dry out
So put it in all of the papers,
I'm not afraid
They can read all about it
Read all about it, oh
Oh-oh-oh (x6)

I wanna sing, I wanna shout
I wanna scream 'til the words dry out
So put it in all of the papers,
I'm not afraid
They can read all about it
Read all about it, oh

"Get away from me, Nadir, you pathetic imbecile. I have no time for this." Erik growled, turning back to the piano as he began to grumble under his breath. He foraged through his music sheets, feeling the eyes of the Persian standing behind him focused solely on the back of his head. He hated his dear friend, true, and it was for the sole reason that Nadir seemed determined to keep him in the land of living, and worse still, to get him to socialize. Nothing sounded worse to Erik, and he was quite happy to let Nadir socialize for him. But he was indeed a dear friend, the only one that he would ever know, and for reasons he would rather forget.

"I think you have plenty of time for this, seeing as you have no work now." Nadir remarked, crossing the room, pulling out his phone to check his calendar. The next few months could have been filled with a good number of projects, like the last couple of years had gone, but Erik had been distracted the last few days with his work. His one masterpiece that he could be proud of. It was calling to him again.

"I've told you, I'm taking a break to pursue my opera, you know the one." Erik said, turning his mask casually as he told him, gesturing to the mess of paperwork strewn across the piano that was dropping onto the floor.

"Yes, I remember." Nadir replied flatly, nudging a piece of paper with his foot. He stepped forward to stand before him, and persisted again, "You have to attend, they're expecting you and I'll be damned if you're going to miss it just so you can work on a masterpiece you won't even let me sell."

Erik rolled his eyes, though Nadir had no real clue, due to the magnificent mask that Erik wore. It was sculpted to appear as Michelangelo's David, and covered his whole face, over the top and down the sides, hiding his entire head. It was perfectly molded, and it was eerie to look at, which was made worse by the eccentricities of his nature. The eyes had been carved to look as though there were pupils, and there was a thin black material in those pupils, which was something Nadir often claimed he saw but it was impossible. To the naked eye, it would only look as though there were no holes for Erik to look through, the same as the nose, but Nadir still had no clue how he could hear. Erik had assured him on several occasions that he could, having tested more than once that not only could he hear, but speak clearly and see perfectly too. Nadir would grown bored at some point, as he did whenever Erik went on one of his rants, and Erik had tried to entertain him once by launching into a whole explanation of the new kind of material he had used, and there must have been a joke about mirrors somewhere, because he remembered having to prompt Nadir to laugh at some point, but the whole time he hadn't really been listening as closely as he should have been. Erik had never been very good with people, despising everyone on a whole, so it never surprised either of them that Erik wasn't a very good host. But still, Erik expected something of Nadir, they had gone through so much together. Was Erik so boring? There was now the strange silence that filled the room that often followed him.

Nadir stared back at him, shaking his head, and placed his hands on his hips. "You know damn well I have no idea what you're thinking, but let me tell you what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that you're going to come with me and accept the award!"

Erik chuckled. "You're so certain I'll win?"

It was a joke between them. Erik's music was created for multiple purposes, and he invariably won a multitude of awards. He had written compositions for a number of high budget movies, a variety of scores for video games, multiple albums released, too many to count on his digits, and he occasionally sold his music to wealthy patronages. Not that they deserved it, he thought. It was the same thing, day in, day out, over and over, and it would be this way until he died. And death was coming for him. But before he died, he wished to make one final offering to the world. He had promised to write an opera some years ago, but then had it destroyed before Nadir could read it and sell it. Nadir must have wondered now if this masterpiece was the same opera he had burned. They looked at the floor; there was enough mess to suggest it was.

"Why do you think I want you to attend? I want you to show off for once. You make this music and hide it. You're so secretive about it, but you're perfectly happy to sell it to the highest bidder aren't you? So I think our investors should get to see the man who makes their music. So get dressed, we're leaving in fifteen minutes!" Nadir announced, striding out of the music room and out into the living room, towards the front door where there was a coat stand waiting for him. Nadir grabbed his jacket and walked towards the bookstand so Erik could see him from his music room.

Erik turned away from Nadir and back to the piano once more. "I shall do no such thing. You know I hate cameras. How absurd of you to suggest it," The white mask spun around to peer at Nadir from over his shoulder. "And what makes you think that I need to be there after all this time? I've never gone before, you've always attended for me, so what is it?"

"I'm not playing these games with you; I'm ordering you to do as I say. I'm your friend and more importantly, your manager, and I'm tired of being your face." Nadir barked, clutching his coat in his hands tightly.

Nadir froze as he realized the mistake he had made, but Erik remained motionless, and silent as he watched him, until he sat up straight, and hung his head. "I know that it is not easy to own this face, but that doesn't mean I should push off this responsibility onto you." He sighed, and looked around him. "I still do not think that there is any point to my going, but I can see that this is important to you."

"Erik, it's important to both of us. You need structure and to socialize and I need a regular income and a regular sleep pattern." Nadir concluded. "And you never know, you might have fun and meet new people."

Erik turned to look at him again, and stared at Nadir venomously. How could Erik ever have fun around another single human other than Nadir? Humans, on the whole, were lying, cheating, manipulative rats that should have been extinct.

"I know, highly unlikely, but it would make me happy to see you out in public. I think you'll find that people are interested in you and want to talk to you outside of work." Nadir said, putting on his coat.

Erik laughed callously. "Of course, because people are just dying to know me, wouldn't you say so Nadir?"

Nadir paused, one arm in his sleeve. "Please Erik, I have asked you never to bring that up." He stole a glance at Erik, who nodded apologetically as the memory of their history together passed.

"Forgive me, that was rude."

Nadir laughed to ease some of the tension. "Aren't you always rude?"

Erik nodded his head, and stood up, brushing aside the papers lightly with his fingertips. "True."

Erik approached his bedroom gracefully, placing his hands around the mask, his tall and dark figure gliding across the room like a ghost. Nadir called out, having already approached the front door, and was now peering around it.

"Fifteen minutes, Erik. I'll be waiting downstairs."

"Ten, I should think. I won't be putting that much attention into my appearance, and I hope you don't expect me to remain around the cameras?" Erik called from behind locked doors.

"You can approach this however you want. If you can fit an interview in there that would be great. Remember, you're hopeful and friendly." Nadir replied, pulling out his phone to message the limo below.

"I think that's asking a bit too much, Nadir."

"Perhaps, but in any situation, friendly is good." Nadir finished, shutting the door behind him promptly.

Christine opened the bathroom door, a large cloud of stream erupting from the room, and she stepped out, staring at the dress laid out on the bed just around the corner of the bathroom. It was beautiful, a long white dress with a shimmer effect that had looked amazing when she had bought it, but now it looked ghastly and fragile lying on the hotel bed. She stepped around the corner, towards the end of the bed, drying herself off as she sat before the mirror, staring at the invite on the dressing table that sat opposite her double bed. Her head felt fuzzy, and she wanted to lie down and just sleep, but she knew she couldn't. She had an award show to go to, which still hadn't clicked in Christine's head that it was all really happening, and she wasn't even really that interested in going, but it had been prompted by Chris Wright, a TV show presenter back home in London who had brought her onto the show to discuss the viral video she had made, and one thing had led to another.

It had started with her channel. Being a vlogger meant she could express herself in a multitude of ways. It was a way for her to vent and have fun and communicate, but mostly it was an escape for her. An escape from the grief that now lay dormant inside her. It was all she could feel, and it was as though a horrible monster was following her around, everywhere she went. Her videos had allowed her to pretend she had friends and give her life some kind of structure. It also meant that she could show her followers only what she wanted them to see, thanks to her editing skills. It was like as though she was editing herself, making herself into what she wanted to be, what she wanted her followers to think of her. She had plenty of followers and enough to them talked back to her, so it was an illusion of popularity, and they seemed interested enough in her. Her videos weren't usually that long, around 10 minutes or so, about various subjects and reports that had been in the news. She made occasional videos dedicated to opening the mail they had sent her, which was never usually long, but it made her and her viewers happy, which was all she cared about. She often had random videos too, just about her life and her feelings, which didn't gain any more attention than the rest of the videos, but it was enough to keep her soul at ease. It wasn't enough to explain her ease her feelings over her dead father however.

A few weeks ago, she had written and performed a song, not to be taken seriously, but it had been witty and funny enough that her usual amount of views had doubled, then tripled, then made it onto the local news, and continued to spread across the internet. It had led to her being asked to appear on some late night comedy show with a presenter she had never found funny, answering questions about her song and none on her channel. He had made some jokes, and she had politely laughed with him, but then he had brought out an envelope, and Christine could feel the embarrassment building up inside her. He was going to ask her either to sing or give her a present she would never end up using, like a gift card to a shop she had never heard of before, or a subscription to some magazine. But it had turned out to be two tickets for her to go to a music award show in America. She had been amazed and surprised, but not as much when after the show he had cheekily asked if there was anyone she would be taking, but she had answered no. And it was true. There was no-one. No-one apart from Raoul, but it felt wrong to take him, he was like a brother, and to share the same room and the same bed at their age was improper. Besides, he only would have been bored. Raoul was funny that way. He didn't see the week she would be spending in New York as an adventure, he saw it as a risk. He liked being safe, and he had warned Christine not to go, claiming that New York was a dangerous place. She knew it was dangerous, but she wasn't in a movie. She was just going to a TV awards show, it was no big deal. There would be cameras, but it was no big deal. She might even meet celebrities, but it was no big deal.

No matter how hard Christine tried, no matter how many times she told herself those three little words, she could not get the thought of standing before celebrities and photographers out of her head. She hoped she would be able to get a few autographs. It was a big deal! She could just imagine walking down the red carpet, looking so beautiful. And in front of photographers and journalists and talk show hosts! She had wished now that she had brought Raoul along, just only so she had somehow to talk her through her nerves. It was all a mistake, she shouldn't have been there alone. When he had asked her one last time if she didn't want him to come, back in the airport, she had said no, and that she was okay. He had been so protective those last few days, and she had felt so clouded by him. At first, it had been endearing, but now it had become annoying.

After having gotten on the plane, she stared at the invite in her hands, staring at her name written across it. The whole buzz of her 'internet sensation' as Chris Wright had put it, had faded, and she would be surprised if anyone was really interested in meeting her and discussing her channel. She highly doubted that she would get a job out of the whole affair, but there was really no reason why she shouldn't go. If she presented herself nicely enough, there was the chance that she would get her photo some of the magazines. She might not have had anyone else to go with her, but it was a chance to go to America, even if it was only for a week. So she had landed that morning, very dreary and sleep headed. She had stayed awake to video the whole experience on her small digital camera. Everything from arriving at the airport, to land in New York. She had videoed the whole thing, and decided to do some light editing as she arrived at the hotel. She found she couldn't stay awake though, and after having a nap, she had left to go get ready, but now, finally sitting down and just thinking had led her to wonder whether or not this was a good idea. She had never left England before, but she had gone there from Scandinavia back when she was young and when her father had been alive, so while this wasn't a new experience, it sure felt like it.

She gave a silent prayer for her father as she finished drying her hair, and sat in silence as she thought of his smile, his warm hugs, his scrambled eggs in the morning, the way he held her hand when walking her to school, and his mustache which would rub against her whenever he kissed her. He had been the one who had taught her to sing when she was young, and she had been gifted, or so he had told her on a daily basis, but after he had died her voice had died with him. She had lost all desire to sing, and as opposed to when she would sing every free moment of every waking day, she now only sang to remember her father. That song she had written and performed had been dedicated to him, but the presenter hadn't been too interested in hearing that side of the story, and had only really been interested in her sex life, much to her disgust. He didn't know that her song was the first real song she had sung in years. It was awful. It was hilarious to watch but it was still awful. She didn't sound anything like she used to do, and it showed. She wished she had kept up with her father's training, but the memory of her father was too much to bear.

Christine rubbed her arms, and prayed for her father again, wondering what he thought of her now, up in heaven, after all these years. He probably wept for her. Brushing off these thoughts, she began to get dressed, and put on some make-up after searching her suitcases for her shoes. They were a bit wobbly, but she figured she would only be walking for a little bit, and then doing a lot of sitting. It was nothing she couldn't handle. She had been practicing in the clear strappy shoes, but she was so unsure of herself now. She wished she had brought different shoes. None of the ones she had brought for her other outfits matched. It had all been planned out by the other girls at the cafe, down to each bracelet and earring. Christine had no clue about fashion, but she trusted their opinion. She had a few minutes before she had to leave, so she switched on her camera and filmed the view from her window, remaining silent as she watched the people go about their lives below, while she felt isolated and fearful. She wished fervently that her father was alive so that he could guide and protect her. Christine grabbed her purse, dropping her camera inside, and after a few minutes of practicing to walk in high heels, she left, anxious and afraid.

I'd love to see some reviews, or any comments or questions!