Joplin and Presley: a Fan-Fiction

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A few nights past, Elvis had another show. He performed with energy, spirit. And, of course, this made the girls go crazy. His ears were still ringing afterwards, but he wore a smile.

He walked off stage, mind wondering, but he kept a steady head. He could not keep his thoughts off his face, though, because Joe said, "Man, Elvis, you always have women on your mind."

Elvis rolled his eyes, but laughed his hearty laugh. No words were needed.

Many miles and a few states away, Janis walked into the local hotel. Her smile was wide. She had experienced a natural high from the show she had just performed. She had given it her all, as she always had, but she was holding nobody else's hand. She was content with it, she thought, as she unlocked her room.

She walked over to the bed, sat down, and closed her eyes. Her mind crept over to the subject. Dark hair and a handsome face crossed her mind. She smiled and shook her head. She had read his letter multiple times before. It rested in her notebook, between pages of words and thoughts and feelings. She received many letters, but she had read his the most in the short amount of time. She ran her hand subconsciously against the spine of the notebook. Lighting a cigarette and making sure it didn't brush against the pages, she read the words again. They were simple, seemingly genuine, and she was certain he had written them to many before. Still, they meant a little something.

She placed the notebook back on the bedside table, and went to bed. She stayed awake, thinking again. The rest of her band was staying elsewhere, maybe even in a different hotel, because she had said she wanted to be alone. But now she was starting to regret it. Now, she wanted someone to talk to. But she closed her eyes, trying to silence her worries. She had stubbed out the cigarette. Her eyes closed, she crept off to sleep.

She was on stage, only she could not speak. She opened her mouth. Air passed through and by, but not a sound exited. She closed her mouth, shaking her head, smiling. Sorry, everybody, it's just the nerves. Her lips opened, and she tried to hit even just one note. Not a sound escaped. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. The show had ended before it begun, and she felt something in her heart. She was saddened; it was a thing which had not happened before, and she thought it never would have. But it had and did -

She woke with a start. Trembling, she sat up in bed. It was just a dream. She opened her mouth and sang a line or two. She could sing. The dream faded from her like clouds. She lit a quick cigarette, not even thinking of returning to sleep. She crept out of bed and walked to the balcony. She pushed aside the doors and walked outside.

The outside world was quiet. All the cars had passed by before, yet the streetlights were still on. She could see no walkers in the streets. She was as alone as she had been in the room. She ran a hand through her hair. Then, she returned to the room, to bed. She was asleep again soon enough.

Many miles away, Elvis had fallen asleep a short while ago. Exhausted after the show, he had hardly time to think, but he said a little prayer for her, all the same. Sleep cradled them both, and the same rays of sun would wake them when the morning bell rang.