Tasting the tears I open my eyes

My bleeding heart is calling your name

Take my hand you devil in disguise

Save my soul from this burning shame

A shimmering vision tears through the night

Her voice in the snow on my door is knocking

Facing the wind like a star so bright

Her singing heart, my world is rocking

The lights go down as you’re breathing fire

Your fading song running through my veins

A magic touch and I feel your desire

Shadows of the past my eternal chains

The vision is gone, my darkness returns

Princess of the rain in a loving dream

Holding the sun, my ice she burns

Olivia: the name in my twilight scream

A single tear rolled down James’ cheek, as he read what he had just finished writing. Olivia’s presence the night before had sent shockwaves through his heart and mind, making him question his decision to reject her advances. Her voice, her fingers on the piano keys, and the warm glances that she cast him were haunting his mind.

“Maybe she was a dream.” He thought to himself; “A mirage of some sort.”

James was going over the lyrics, when a big, somewhat thick hand came into view, gently pulling the piece of paper out of his grasp. It belonged to Rick Briar, the closest thing he had to a friend.

“I’ll be damned.” Rick said in his croaky voice. “There’s a name in this one. Who is she?”

“How long have you been standing there?” James grumbled.

“I knocked, James.” Rick stated, tossing the paper down on the table. “I knocked four times. It’s not my fault if you didn’t listen. Who is she?”

“Just some hiker,” James murmured, unwilling to discuss this any further. “What brings you over?”

“Just some hiker?” Rick repeated while he squinted at James. “I don’t think so. You’ve taken in hikers before, but I’ve never seen you write anything for them. Come on, who is she?”

“I said she was a hiker.” James raised his tone; “A talented one, for a change. You haven’t answered my question.”

“Business,” Rick said. “The bosses in Manhattan want to have a word with you. They’ve discovered some new talent. They need lyrics, ASAP: as many songs as possible.”

“Same old story: record company finds a good-looking kid; early twenties; give him a contract; turn him into their bitch; as soon as the contract expires, they kick him out.” A bitter smile formed on James’ face. “Aren’t you tired of all this crap?”

“We’re not living in the eighties, buddy.” Rick attempted a sarcastic tone, “Or the nineties. The music industry is pretty hard these days. People like to see new faces all the time. It’d be great if they found a new Mariah Carey or a new George Michael. You know, someone with strong talent to rely on. But that’s just next to impossible.”

“They don’t want to find anyone to rely on, Rick.” James spoke his mind. “They like things the way they are. When the hell are those rich suits going to get it through their thick skull that writing lyrics takes time? Let me show you something.”

Finishing his sentence, James got up and quickly went to his front door.

“Look at them.” He said, pointing at the massive, balsam fir trees down the slope. “The smallest of those trees is more than twenty feet tall. They don’t grow overnight. It takes them years to reach that height.”

“James, how long did it take you to write those four verses?” Rick asked.

“Ten: maybe fifteen minutes;” James answered. “Why?”

“That’s mighty fast!” Rick laughed. “You’re contradicting yourself!”

“We’re talking about two completely different things here.” James rejected that notion. “You know how it goes. Whenever I need to write lyrics for someone, we meet: we spend a couple of days together; he or she shares some memories; I take notes; and so on… What you read was just the heat of the moment. Last night was pretty intense.”

“I’ll bet.” Rick smiled, mischievously. “Is she hot?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, she’s beautiful.” James declared, slamming the door behind him. “Are you done with all the questions?”

“James…” Rick began, taking a few confident steps towards him. “You spent one night with her and you’ve already written something. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if you got into a relationship with her.”

“Haven’t we had this conversation already?” James’ tone of voice suddenly became stiff, as he intensified his stare.

“All I’m saying is that you need some more…” Rick drew in a deep breath; “Inspiration. It could help you write faster.”

“Look around you, Rick!” James yelled. “I got all the inspiration I need. I also have my past.”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” Rick cried. “Can you talk to a tree? Can you go on a date with snow? Make love to a rock?”

Rick’s words sent James’ adrenaline into the ozone layer. James was not good at handling pressure. He would not have someone pry into his personal life, even if that someone was Rick. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed him by the collar of his coat, spun him around and pinned him against the heavy, wooden door. His overweight body made a loud thump that bounced off the walls of the living room.

“Listen up.” James snarled, as fear flashed in Rick’s eyes. “What I do with my life is my business: not yours. You got that?”

“Let me go, man!” Rick squealed, pushing him back with all his might: to no avail. James’ grip was too tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

James loosened his grip, upon hearing his apology. Unable to control his short breath, he dropped his arms and tried to turn around. As he did however, he sensed Rick’s hand on his wrist.

“You need to come with me to New York.” He said, straightening his coat with his free hand. “Bosses’ orders; nothing I can do about it.”

“It’s not going to change anything.” James said, looking down at him over his left shoulder.

“Please, man!” Rick begged. “I can’t go back empty-handed. I could lose my job.”

“Fine,” James muttered under his breath. “Let me go get dressed.”