The floor lights illuminated her, a glowing angel against the grimy backdrop of the darkened stage. The crowd was quiet as she adjusted the microphone, lowering it from the previous performer. Her eyes opened wide, drinking in the dimly-lit crowd, her mouth parted and she began to sing.
My drink was halfway to my mouth when she released those first few notes and it stayed there, my arm unable to move. Her voice was hypnotizing, mesmerizing.
I floated up, her melody acting like a hook. I looked down and saw my body still sitting there, the glass still halfway between my mouth and the table.
I floated up to the ceiling as the tempo rose, the singer swung her arms and moved her feet and the tune carried me to heaven.


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CraigTowsley (joined almost 11 years ago)
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I think this site is like a power juicer to the armadillo-skinned oranges of writer's block.

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