Summer 1947
The light from the TV flickered, illuminating the room in an eerie grey glow. Looking away from the monochrome image, young Elvis Presley smiled down at the little girl lying asleep with her head on his lap. She was such a cutie; even he had to admit it. And he didn’t even care much for girls. He was only 12-years-old, after all. Moving carefully, he managed to pick her up and carry her to her room. Tucking her in, Elvis smiled. He couldn’t believe she was 8-years-old now. He vividly remembered her being born and how excited his parents had been that their closest friends had finally been able to have another baby, after trying so hard for what seemed like so long. Just as he was leaving the room, Elvis heard a small voice call his name. “I thought you were asleep, Demi.” He said, turning back around. The little girl rubbed her eyes wearily. “I was. But then I felt you leaving me.” She replied. Elvis shook his head and went back over. “Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep again?” He asked, sitting down in the rocking chair by the bed. Demi nodded, pulling the blankets up to her chin. They stayed quiet for a while, until it got too much for Elvis. Picking his guitar up from where he’d left it earlier in the day, he started playing a quiet tune. “Will you sing me a song?” Demi asked. “What kind of song?” Elvis asked. “Anything. As long as it’s you singing it, I don’t care.” Elvis started playing an unfamiliar tune. Off the top of his head, he sang a little ditty, all about Demi.
“Demetria, you’re a real nice girl
With lots and lots of long dark curls.
You make everyone you meet sigh with joy,
Even mean old little boys.
The days will come
Once you’ve all but grown,
You’ll make all the young men cry
And drown themselves in their daddy’s best cologne.
But they’ll never impress you,
No siree,
How could they
When you’ve got someone like me?”
Demi clapped happily as Elvis stood to take a bow. “Do you think you’ll be a real singer when you grow up, Elvis?” She asked. He shrugged. “I’d sure like to be. Problem is I can’t really sing in front of people. ‘Cept you, ‘course.” “And your momma and daddy.” Demi pointed out. Elvis chuckled. “Yeah, them too.” “Would you write your own songs? Like you did that one?” Demi asked. Elvis shook his head. “Don’t think so. I’d want the best people possible to write my songs. Then, if I was a failure, it would be my fault and not theirs.” He strummed his guitar absentmindedly as he instructed Demi to get settled again. “What do you wanna be when you grow up then?” Elvis asked her. Demi yawned as she pondered her friend’s question. “I think I’d like to be a model.” She replied finally, her eyes now starting to get heavy. “You’d be good at that. You’ve always like getting your photo taken. And you’re pretty too.” Elvis complimented her. Demi smiled wearily. “I’d be a model and then I’d also be an actress and a singer too. Then we could duet. I’d write the song and you’d sing it with me…” Before she could continue with her dreams for the future, Demi was asleep. Elvis chuckled and kissed her head gently. “We’ll get there someday. I just know we will.” Picking up his guitar, Elvis left the room and waited for Demi’s parents to return.
VOUS LISEZ
Secret Love - The King & His Forgotten Queen (E.P)
FanfictionWhat would you do if the only friend you ever had left you one day, in the blink of an eye? What would you do if they made you a promise that all your dreams would come true, but left before you were old enough to do anything about it? What would yo...
