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Chasing Dreams
Music – one of the great therapeutic mediums – was Hunter’s favorite way to wind down. Whether it was after work, or on a weekend, driving in his truck or sitting at home. He always was listening to his favorite tunes on the radio or on the internet.
He knew the lyrics like the back of his hand and often tapped along with the beat; no matter if it was a pencil in his hand while he was trying to draw, his knuckles or his foot paws, the brown and beige wolf always pretended he was playing percussion.
In private, he sang along, his voice and tone equivocally matched with expert precision with the vocals on the track; he had a sense he would make a great singer, and be famous upon stage, but something held him back – his pride.
He feared ridicule and embarrassment, though he felt as though he could hold a note and sing harmonically with the music, he feared others would not think the same. He only sang while he was alone, feeling comfortable in his own mind and knowing his harshest critic was the same wolf that was delivering.
It was a sense of serenity, much like his walks in the woods or while he daydreamed on the ride to and from work. Music was a part of his soul; it’s rhythm his heartbeat and its voice easing his mind and body.
One fateful day, while taking a shower, he had a song stuck in his head; a tune he enjoyed since his teenage years and one that held a special place in his heart; destined to sing to the love of his life Ammy: “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain. He often played it around her, and she enjoyed the song too, but he could not develop the courage to sing it to her. He dreamed of learning to play guitar, and learning that song, taking the song and making it his own, to sweep her off her feet.
He couldn’t help himself but to sing aloud; the distinct sounds of the shower raining down upon him and the bathtub taking the role of the instrumental guitar and the only acoustics being his voice reverberating off the bathroom walls. He didn’t need the backing instrumentals, the rhythm or the beat; the song came from his heart in droves of harmonic resonance.
With his shower finishing with the end of the song, he quickly dried off and with the towel still wrapped around him, opened the door. With the rush of steam leaving in his wake he was soon met in the hallway by the tan wolf he loved so much, a passionate expression plastered her muzzle as if she was about to break down in tears.
“Tha-That was b-beautiful honey! I didn’t know you could sing!”
Hunter was taken aback, ‘had she really heard!? Is she trying to be sarcastic or is this real?’. “I always sing while I’m alone…I just am too afraid to do so around other people…”
“But why?! You sang that song just like Edwin! It was perfect…the harmonics, the high notes, everything was beautiful,” she encouraged, covering her face with her hands to hide her emotions. “You really need to go out and try to sing in front of others! You never know, you could be the next big thing!”
The brown wolf had a new sense of confidence in his talent, his own self-notion of his skill and talent in the vocal arts was further endorsed by the closest one to him and it gave him hope for a bright future.
Time seemed to fly by as he soon became the proud owner of a beautiful classic guitar; it’s exotic woods were so beautifully and artistically crafted, that he felt it was made for him. It didn’t take long before he mastered the song and many others to which he lived up to his dream: singing “I’ll Be” to Ammy and bringing her to joyful tears of love and finding solace in his words.
Soon after fulfilling his own dream and wanting to branch out further, he soon found hope that he could fulfil hers as well; to be the next hit single artist to reach the mainstream. He landed a gig at a local bar and much to his delight, found the venue to be very warm and welcoming to his talent and very quickly a door was opened at the opportunity to hit it big!
Stage fright soon took its toll, his knees trembled with ferocity and his throat felt as though he had sung all night long when he hadn’t even spoken a single word. He clutched his guitar with sweaty palm pads as he swallowed his pride and stepped upon the stage. With a look back to his loving support he found in Ammy who gave him a thumb up, and blew him a kiss; a sign of encouragement, he waited patiently as the curtains slowly drew skyward, revealing the bright studio lights and the dimly lit faces of at least 10,000 in attendance!
He felt as though he was going to faint, never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would get this far! And all by accidentally being discovered by singing in the showers; his choices and talent had changed the course of destiny for this wolf!
It took him a moment to regain his composure, but soon he collected himself and closed his eyes and blocked out everything as the crowd fell still. One could hear a pin drop until he struck the first chord, feeling the pressure of his finger pads against the taut strings and the weightlessness of the pick zipping through all 6.
As he played the opening tune to the song, the crowd began to cheer and whistle, recognizing the acoustic introduction to the song. Very soon, he found the words, escaping his blacked chapped lips like he was in automation, the soft tone of the words entering the microphone in front of him and resonating perfectly through the speakers throughout the venue with the melody of the guitar as he dissolved into the atmosphere and emotional storm of the song and what it meant to him; as if he was singing to Ammy at home – a place and person of comfort, easing his tensions and anxiety to the reality of where he was.
When the song ended, he opened his eyes to the outcry of the audience in an ear-piercing uproar; chanting his name and holding outstretched arms for him to fall into – a welcoming and warm gesture he was all too eager to accept as he basked in his pride and glory of delivering a performance of perfection.
With guitar in tow along his back, he leapt from the stage. Gravity was non-existent to this over joyed wolf who knew he had not only fulfilled his mate’s wish for him, but to be so graciously accepting in his talent he once was so self-conscious about.
As he landed in the crowd back first, he suddenly felt a jarring prod to his ribs. It was so painful that everything turned black and he soon found himself sitting upright, completely in a daze and sweating profusely in a panic, wondering if he had been mortally injured.
“Hunter…quit grumbling! I can’t sleep,” The voice was familiar, a soft, gentle voice that came with a hint of drunkenness. The pain still throbbed in his side as he placed a paw there, realizing he was lying in bed, covered by the sheets and his mate Ammy lying by his side.
With an annoyed sigh he laid back down and stared at the ceiling. ‘It was all a stupid dream! But it seemed so real!’. He quickly rubbed his eyes and rolled over, cradling his furred head into his padded hands, staring into the darkness of the room.
“Of course, it was a dream…a dream within a dream…how ironic,” he muttered to himself in annoyance before he closed his eyes and quickly fell back asleep. His breathing soon becoming synchronous with hers as they filled the quiet, still night with their own music.
My entry for this week's Thursday Prompt which provided the inspiration via an art-piece from
Rascheln entitled "Bone-Shaped Box": http://www.furaffinity.net/view/25457444/
I enjoyed this one and I hope you all do too!
Music – one of the great therapeutic mediums – was Hunter’s favorite way to wind down. Whether it was after work, or on a weekend, driving in his truck or sitting at home. He always was listening to his favorite tunes on the radio or on the internet.
He knew the lyrics like the back of his hand and often tapped along with the beat; no matter if it was a pencil in his hand while he was trying to draw, his knuckles or his foot paws, the brown and beige wolf always pretended he was playing percussion.
In private, he sang along, his voice and tone equivocally matched with expert precision with the vocals on the track; he had a sense he would make a great singer, and be famous upon stage, but something held him back – his pride.
He feared ridicule and embarrassment, though he felt as though he could hold a note and sing harmonically with the music, he feared others would not think the same. He only sang while he was alone, feeling comfortable in his own mind and knowing his harshest critic was the same wolf that was delivering.
It was a sense of serenity, much like his walks in the woods or while he daydreamed on the ride to and from work. Music was a part of his soul; it’s rhythm his heartbeat and its voice easing his mind and body.
One fateful day, while taking a shower, he had a song stuck in his head; a tune he enjoyed since his teenage years and one that held a special place in his heart; destined to sing to the love of his life Ammy: “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain. He often played it around her, and she enjoyed the song too, but he could not develop the courage to sing it to her. He dreamed of learning to play guitar, and learning that song, taking the song and making it his own, to sweep her off her feet.
He couldn’t help himself but to sing aloud; the distinct sounds of the shower raining down upon him and the bathtub taking the role of the instrumental guitar and the only acoustics being his voice reverberating off the bathroom walls. He didn’t need the backing instrumentals, the rhythm or the beat; the song came from his heart in droves of harmonic resonance.
With his shower finishing with the end of the song, he quickly dried off and with the towel still wrapped around him, opened the door. With the rush of steam leaving in his wake he was soon met in the hallway by the tan wolf he loved so much, a passionate expression plastered her muzzle as if she was about to break down in tears.
“Tha-That was b-beautiful honey! I didn’t know you could sing!”
Hunter was taken aback, ‘had she really heard!? Is she trying to be sarcastic or is this real?’. “I always sing while I’m alone…I just am too afraid to do so around other people…”
“But why?! You sang that song just like Edwin! It was perfect…the harmonics, the high notes, everything was beautiful,” she encouraged, covering her face with her hands to hide her emotions. “You really need to go out and try to sing in front of others! You never know, you could be the next big thing!”
The brown wolf had a new sense of confidence in his talent, his own self-notion of his skill and talent in the vocal arts was further endorsed by the closest one to him and it gave him hope for a bright future.
Time seemed to fly by as he soon became the proud owner of a beautiful classic guitar; it’s exotic woods were so beautifully and artistically crafted, that he felt it was made for him. It didn’t take long before he mastered the song and many others to which he lived up to his dream: singing “I’ll Be” to Ammy and bringing her to joyful tears of love and finding solace in his words.
Soon after fulfilling his own dream and wanting to branch out further, he soon found hope that he could fulfil hers as well; to be the next hit single artist to reach the mainstream. He landed a gig at a local bar and much to his delight, found the venue to be very warm and welcoming to his talent and very quickly a door was opened at the opportunity to hit it big!
Stage fright soon took its toll, his knees trembled with ferocity and his throat felt as though he had sung all night long when he hadn’t even spoken a single word. He clutched his guitar with sweaty palm pads as he swallowed his pride and stepped upon the stage. With a look back to his loving support he found in Ammy who gave him a thumb up, and blew him a kiss; a sign of encouragement, he waited patiently as the curtains slowly drew skyward, revealing the bright studio lights and the dimly lit faces of at least 10,000 in attendance!
He felt as though he was going to faint, never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would get this far! And all by accidentally being discovered by singing in the showers; his choices and talent had changed the course of destiny for this wolf!
It took him a moment to regain his composure, but soon he collected himself and closed his eyes and blocked out everything as the crowd fell still. One could hear a pin drop until he struck the first chord, feeling the pressure of his finger pads against the taut strings and the weightlessness of the pick zipping through all 6.
As he played the opening tune to the song, the crowd began to cheer and whistle, recognizing the acoustic introduction to the song. Very soon, he found the words, escaping his blacked chapped lips like he was in automation, the soft tone of the words entering the microphone in front of him and resonating perfectly through the speakers throughout the venue with the melody of the guitar as he dissolved into the atmosphere and emotional storm of the song and what it meant to him; as if he was singing to Ammy at home – a place and person of comfort, easing his tensions and anxiety to the reality of where he was.
When the song ended, he opened his eyes to the outcry of the audience in an ear-piercing uproar; chanting his name and holding outstretched arms for him to fall into – a welcoming and warm gesture he was all too eager to accept as he basked in his pride and glory of delivering a performance of perfection.
With guitar in tow along his back, he leapt from the stage. Gravity was non-existent to this over joyed wolf who knew he had not only fulfilled his mate’s wish for him, but to be so graciously accepting in his talent he once was so self-conscious about.
As he landed in the crowd back first, he suddenly felt a jarring prod to his ribs. It was so painful that everything turned black and he soon found himself sitting upright, completely in a daze and sweating profusely in a panic, wondering if he had been mortally injured.
“Hunter…quit grumbling! I can’t sleep,” The voice was familiar, a soft, gentle voice that came with a hint of drunkenness. The pain still throbbed in his side as he placed a paw there, realizing he was lying in bed, covered by the sheets and his mate Ammy lying by his side.
With an annoyed sigh he laid back down and stared at the ceiling. ‘It was all a stupid dream! But it seemed so real!’. He quickly rubbed his eyes and rolled over, cradling his furred head into his padded hands, staring into the darkness of the room.
“Of course, it was a dream…a dream within a dream…how ironic,” he muttered to himself in annoyance before he closed his eyes and quickly fell back asleep. His breathing soon becoming synchronous with hers as they filled the quiet, still night with their own music.
My entry for this week's Thursday Prompt which provided the inspiration via an art-piece from
Rascheln entitled "Bone-Shaped Box": http://www.furaffinity.net/view/25457444/I enjoyed this one and I hope you all do too!
Category Story / All
Species Wolf
Size 90 x 120px
File Size 15.6 kB
Listed in Folders
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