Resolutions are Just Beginnings of Something Else.
She stretched until her back popped, hands clasped behind her head, pulling out and up. She'd been at the computer for hours everyday this month trying to finish in time. True it wasn't a work deadline, but Labors of Love had their own schedules.
Ok, so she'd actually finished the 'Public' release months ago. This was what was called 'The Storybrooke Cut'. Being in the public spotlight made it necessary to do this herself in the privacy of her own home. On her own equipment. With no internet connection. There were already a couple 'Storybrooke Cuts' of her other music videos floating around YouTube, explained as abandoned concepts and rough cuts. Her fans loved them though and she figured maybe setting something in her will to have them all released at her death.
This one though, was special, though. A huge, three part mega album. Well three parts because the record company wanted to cash in on everything they could. Instead of releasing the songs in narrative order, the more pop-y love songs were being released as their own album, and the more angst-y songs another and finally the angry 'Break Up' songs. In return, they were giving her creative control over the videos. She'd shot so much material, they actually suggested she turn it into some sort of film.
"Your very own Purple Rain."
"Only if the album is re-released in its original form."
They were actually considering it now that the videos had been presented. Somehow the vision was sinking in and they got it. They were even allowing her to finish out her contract with this project and take a few years off.
The first two singles had dropped and were charting well. Test screenings of the videos were also doing well. She was going back and forth with her manager and the label, and social media was filled with kids doing covers and choreographing dance routines. The marketing described her as being on top of her game.
Yet here she was, in her home office, doing painstaking editing on something that only her immediate family would ever see. She wasn't in L.A. being fauned on by celebutaunts or being photographed in New York with headlines of "The Best Revenge: New Album Debuts at No 1 for Jilted Pop star" on tabloid sites. No, she wasn't like other artists who craved attention and validation. Her real pleasure was in the creation, taking a concept and giving it form, making it as easily felt as the wind on the listeners face. Seeing some one in the crowd feeling the same emotions as intensely as she did, it was euphoric.
In a land supposedly without magic, she was a greater magician than most in other realms could dream of being. She dealt in the greatest of magics, belief. Her music could make the loneliest believe the were understood, the wounded that they were strong enough to survive. She could also hurt, but she hadn't lost control like that in years.
Even when her fiance had been caught cheating on her with another up and coming starlet.
She'd been heart broken. But she hadn't wanted to inflict pain on them, not with her gift. She wasn't over it but she had realized how little she felt for the man she thought she loved enough to be joined with. It hadn't broken her. It had barely bruised her actual emotions. Looking back, she was reacting more from the embarrassment of being so publicly mistreated. Looking back...she wondered why she had ever gotten involved with him.
It was almost two years ago, and her parents had felt it was finally time to give her the talk. Not about the bird and the bees. The talk about how complicated love really was. That even the true love she had been birthed from had to be fought for. That it didn't just win on its own.
They had presented her with a box, full of letters, and journals. Within them, the story of their marriage, and from that her current project had arisen. The love that made me.
The young woman rose, saving her work as she stretched her hips and lower back. The wheeled chair was probably molded to her rear end now. She was approaching the stairs when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Energy was building. Not normal magic, though. She was curious and headed toward the front door to check for a storm. The dark sky was clear, shining with starlight but the feeling had intensified. What was it?
A sudden violent quake ran through the house. It knocked her down and was then joined by another wave of energy, followed by a loud cracking sound. Not good. Panic set in and she tried to move, finding the air thick and her limbs difficult. It was like sleep paralysis, and she was freaking out. A third wave hit and her frenzied mind registered that the world began to spin. She closed her eyes and screamed until the house dropped and she could breath again. Voices drifted in and a shadow entered the still open door frame.
Pinky screamed.