Picture of Billy (Blair's Daddy) ----------------------------------->>>
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Chapter ONE
Blair
“Okay, Blair-bear, pluck an ‘A’ cord.” My father ordered me gently, a fond smile staining his features.
My father almost never didn't smile, so I was used to the shaped his lips always twitched up into.
I plucked an ‘A’ cord.
“That's it! Now an ‘E’?” he stated it more as a question, though I knew he was discreetly praying I would pick it just as easy.
I was a fast learner, so I knew what I was doing, just as much as he did.
I plucked an ‘E’.
“Elle, she's getting good at this already! -” my father called over his shoulder, his small, kind smile now bigger and warmer, “And we only started this 30 minutes ago!”
I could sense my father’s over-doused joy revealing itself through his forever-there smile.
My mother then trotted quietly past the threshold, dividing the living room from the kitchen; she was grasping onto a pearl-white dinner plate, whilst drying it with the dishtowel she held in the other. Her stomach bulged, with the fetus of the baby brother my mother and father had conceived. Her skin was peeking out from the hem of the shirt, revealing her bellybutton under the small ocean green t-shirt she was wearing. At this time, I was 5 years old, 9 year before my mother’s decease.
My mother was beautiful. She has long, curled chocolate-brown hair, with simple, but valuable features; her eyes were such a deep mauve, you would think they were black – and in different lightings, they were.
“Oh course she's getting good, Billy, you're teaching her!” my mother exclaimed, a smile amplifying over her features. She let out a small giggle, completely opposite to my father’s laugh – his laughter boomed! Like you would think the house was having its own personal earthquake.
I snorted often when I would laugh. It was embarrassing, so I tried to resist, but it was easier said than done.
My mother and father were still chuckling, well, my father was, as I said, booming, when I had finally run out of patience.
I didn't have a really bad temper, just not very much patience either.
“Daddy!” I whined, shaking his arm to seize his attention.
“Okay-” my father slowly stopped laughing as I began to talk, but it seems my mother had already stopped, “Let’s get back to the lesson.” I demanded orderly; I wanted to be just as good as my father, and at the rate I am going, it won't be any time soon, like I hoped it would be.
“Okay, Blair-bear.” My father said, after he completely stopped laughing.
My father went back to focusing on my progress whilst he assisted me, and my mother traveled back into her kitchen, to continue cleaning the dishes with the cleaner, Diana.
And from that day on, it felt like me and my dad against the world, looking for our place, were we would be discovered for whom we are, and what we could perform.
My father was a Rock’n’roll artist, yes, but he started teaching me a lot of the piano when I turned 9, which I instantly grew to love even more than guitar – my father wasn't the slightest bit disappointed that I choose the piano over the guitar, but I think that he wished he loved the piano just as much as I did.
It was my world.
My sanctuary.
My safe place.
It was the only place where I could go to and my fingers would be the incubator for my feelings, flicking over keys until they made a perfect tune of how I felt.
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Sorry it's short. :/
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Son of Alpha Loves the Music (DISCONTINUED)
WerewolfBlair Franklin is a girl with a passion for music and dance. Austin Lake is the lead football star quarterback. Both attend "Leonardo's School of Music and Dance". Everything is as normal as they seem. But in secret, Austin also happens the Alpha we...
