MISC «morose! morose! morose!»

XXI.

XXI.

B

           There's no such profession as song interpreter. Because, lyrics are subjective and music has different effects on individual hearts.

And yet, Beverly's mind conjured up an image of victim and savior — once she heard Eleanor wove in air the lyrics to "Mary On A Cross".

You go down just like Holy Mary
Mary on a, Mary on a cross
Not just another Bloody Mary
Mary on a, Mary on a cross, it said.

We were searching for reasons
To play by the rules
But we quickly found
It was just for fools, the swelling climax.

"Not just another Bloody Mary," the cool air was charged with electricity as Eleanor's vocals coloured it with violets and green and mirth and annoyance. "Your beauty never ever scared me
Mary on a, Mary on a cross," she said with a hint of snide smile.

Beverly should have been a song interpreter, instead of wasting it on fools. According to her, Mary On A Cross was a song revolving around two people, one, the speaker loving the other dearly, Mary of the song. Central theme? Mary's victim complex. You can hear the singer is pleading, taunting her to stop — she doesn't, for she believes she'd also be forever remembered as Jesus Christ, if she were sacrificial.

The speaker had saviour complex, Beverly mused. He found greater beauty in her as she gave him the sweet reward of knowing she could be saved.

Her song came to an end and Beverly's bubble popped as soon as the room started thundering with applause and cheers. She went pink in the face, looking around. Soon, she found herself as the person behind the mike. Perhaps sensing her tension — everyone grew quieter. Til there was no sound other than the sweet, luscious voice singing : Fear got you blind, you don't see the signs?

Their eyes grew wide as saucers as they realised her bold selection; bolder of her to make do with minimum time by starting from the middle itself.

"I know the drama got you traumatized
Won't do you like Eve did Adam
In the garden, garden
In the garden, garden
In the garden, garden," her tone turned softer, shut eyed she finished. "Meet me in the middle if you leave me stranded
I might panic," just when they thought she was done, she powered through.

"Holy shit, " Felix exclaimed.

A person like Beverly Ange, the wallflower of Romanstoff, singing Bellah's garden? What's happening to the world? (Random blond's words)

Well, Beverly did feel Adam did Eve wrong; he put her through a lot, quite a lot of difficulties... Yet we blame women. Beverly blew a chunk of hair, annoyed.

A pause button on her head would have come handy, Beverly thought descending. And so would be a mute one.

She was almost speechless when Felicia and Jill started to bash her for keeping the talent a secret. I'm not a main character, Beverly groaned, and I don't like it when others treat me like one for taking a stand (that they should have in the first place).

Above all, Beverly Ange was least interested in fighting battles for others. Her aim by them was to get out, stick forks in spaghetti and enjoy a hearty meal with the eccentric pair, Felicia and Jill.

Evidently she didn't know how attention works — the stage is yours if your wings are spread. And sometimes you're surrounded by hyenas.