Short Story : ' Don 't Be Silly Daddy '

From the moment I heard the majestic scream of Eddie Van Halen’s guitar, I knew I had to learn how to play guitar. I was but only a listener at the time, but the passion of a musician budded within me, and locked my vicarious attention on every note. The more I listened to Van Halen, the more I wanted to stop being a listener, and start being a creator. It was like some insane urge came over me every time I listened to them - telling me to create something. It was a musical high.

I have come a very long way; the four years since I started have only progressed with intensity and involvement with music. I know the next years of my life will only be more intense and more involved with music, and I hope that it can become a career one day. Music has allowed me to express myself during my happy moments, my teenage angst, my depression, my heartbreaks, and it has always gotten stronger, and it carries me with it. I cannot wait to see what music I’m creating in five, ten, or fifteen years. One day, I’ll look back to the songs I have finished in my younger days, and I will be reminded of my high school years, and what I was going through during those times, because, to me, music is

My eyes were filled with eagerness and my body was filled with exhilaration. Looking left and looking right, I watched teenagers play drums as if they were music prodigies; I saw horses and carriages as if we were playing a role in a fairytale Disney movie. Various colors of light flashed brightly all around me. All of it was happening at once.

The bright lights hang on the metal rafters of the large steel building. The lights reflect off of my black and white heifer. In my hand was a light purple banner and a black show stick. In the other hand was my black show halter leather lead keeping my heifer from bolting. It was silent in the barn. It was a full moon and clear night sky filled with a million stars at the tie outs. It was almost too quiet at a large show like this.

Guitar Highway Rose presents numerical messages and themes throughout the course of the book. The many complications of the life of a teenager.

My Black heels sunk into the turf as I walked down center field, a crowd of 6,000 overflowed the aluminum bleachers towering before me. Pungent flowers of bright blue and gold are cradled in my arms, and an itchy vibrant blue sash is placed over my head. “Homecoming Princess 2013” is scrawled across in elegant cursive that shimmered beneath the blinding stadium lights. “Sophomore princess, Brianna Moynihan” echoed over the speakers; every teenage girl’s dream had become my reality.

Growing up on a small farm in Purmela, TX, I was a shy kid with big dreams. My family all played musical instruments and we would go to my grandpa’s house often. Besides church, it was there where I watched my dad spill his sorrows, achievements and stories through his songs. With my grandpa on the fiddle and my cousins on various instruments, they would play on his back porch for hours upon hours. To a 10 year old kid, that back porch seemed bigger than the Grand Ole Opry. I loved to listen but it wasn’t until I turned 20 years old, that I picked up my first guitar. My dad surprised me with it one afternoon, and his exact words were, “you better learn how to play this thing”. So, I did and six weeks later I wrote my first

The other band finished their song. The audience clapped, and hooted, and called out embarrassing pet names for their kids. We walked on stage and sat in our designated seats. The stage lights beating down on us were hot and I needed to squint to see. The audience was a collection of tiny dark specks I was looking out at past Brown’s wide yellow clad torso. Zoe had pulled the music stand in front of us into position, flipping through the pages in the folder and finding the song and the solo page. She handed the latter to me. I grabbed it hard, crinkling the side. And Brown began counting the tempo. Brendan stood and went over to the music stand. I would follow after twenty measures. We lifted our instruments into playing position, and I bit down hard into my mouthpiece. Brown was snapping his fingers softly and began to mouth the tempo. I let my foot fall into the rhythm of the

“When he's given something to keep,I kissed my father.”

“Don’t you understand how much your father needs you right now?” Master asked her. Amber shook her head and a shocked look came onto his face so she decided to explain.

The song before mine ends, the crowd cheering as my body begins to numb. I barely notice the last performer walk offstage as I tremble in the wings. Hesitantly, I make my way to center stage. My heart is pounding, nearly escaping from my chest. My eyes, blinded by the light, search for a familiar

The whole family had been cursed since I had lost that locket. My mother’s locket was given to me the day after she died. My mom’s best friend, the cook, had given it to me. I would wear it everywhere, and I wouldn't take it off for anything. I was very close with my mom, and we would do everything together, we would climb trees and run around outside, even if it was known as unladylike. She died last year in a car crash. I’m Marianne Maladroit and now that I've lost the locket, my family is destined to fail.

At first, standing outside in the cold for six hours didn’t seem worth it just to see a concert. My sister and I were the first two in line and we were also alone for over an hour, and it appeared to me that our enthusiasm got the better of us again. We didn’t talk much, not because we didn’t want to, but because we were freezing and I foolishly only brought one jacket. At this point in my life I was facing the harsh reality of growing up and it was terrifying. I didn’t know what I wanted to

In the time of our adventurous preteen stage, we tried many new and sometimes strange things. From wanting to dye our hair and get facial piercings to telling the world how we felt through boisterous song. It was different for all of us. For Conley, it was an eye opening experience. He met someone who had similar interests as him, particularly music, his name was Cameron. Conley became friends with him and they formed a strong brotherly bond. One day after school Conley went to Cameron’s house to watch movies and play videogames. While there Cameron’s father brought out his guitar and began playing. This sparked intrigue and curiosity into Conley. He wanted to know how just a few simple cords could make such a smooth sound. Cameron’s father

Section M, row one, seat 16, floor. Stage to my left hundreds of fans around me. Sophie and I look around anticipation as the lights dim. The screaming starts but I can barely hear it over the pounding of my own heart. Then I hear it blazing in the speakers the opening song is playing and then there they are. Harry, Louis, Liam, and Nile I'll step out on stage. They all seem to glow a little due to the spotlights on them. It's all very surreal. "that's actually them!" I yell at Sofie. I couldn't believe they were actually right there in front of me and then the singing starts. Everyone in the crowd sings along, or at least the ones that aren't crying (me, I was crying). I see fireworks but I can't hear them over everything else going on but