a million dreams [henry/adolesca]

[kap]

henry wren

- A million dreams are keeping me awake -

Music has always been a passion of mine. I suppose that's why I indulge in it so much. The strumming of my guitar is a peaceful sound to me, and singing relaxes me. With my music, I strive to succeed. My biggest wish is to become noticed, and I've always figured that the best way to do that is to use your talents. Music is my talent, so I assumed that that was the most ideal approach to it all.

Oliver gained his fame in the Games. He didn't even have to win to gain that fame, either, which I think is just unfair. I love my brother, and I'm glad they allowed him to come back alive, but I don't think it's fair that now everyone knows his name when I'm just some stranger in the background of his life and in all of District Eight.

The only time people ever recognize me is when they think that I'm Oliver. I look so much like him that I'm not exactly surprised, but honestly, it does frustrate me quite a bit. I should be known for who I am, rather than who my brother is. I have to explain to people that I'm not him, but his brother, and then they just brush me off, not wanting anything to do with me beyond that point. It's like I've bothered them somehow just because my existence confused them and I didn't turn out to be who they wanted me to be.

I'm tired of just trying to be who others want me to be.

That's why I strive to be unique. Today, I took my guitar to the market area of District Eight. There were vendors with their booths set up, selling anything from food and drinks to trinkets and knickknacks. I set up near the center of it all, and opened up my guitar case. I took my instrument out and began to play.

It seemed to me, though, that barely anyone was paying me any mind, or any money for that matter. A couple of people dropped some change in my open guitar case for me, and one man put a dollar or two in there, but other than that, it overall wasn't very successful so far.

I wouldn't let myself become discouraged, though, so I just kept playing.

384 words

template by punki of adoxography
lyrics: "A Million Dreams" from the Greatest Showman

[bailee]

adolesca marchenko.

Slammed doors and heated words were a thing of normalcy in the Marchenko household.

Mom was bitching at me about one thing, my dad always took her side because he's afraid of what would happen if he didn't, and my brother always stood awkwardly in the corner, observing the situation from a distance. We were the picturesque idea of a middle-class Panem family, if only you didn't look beneath the surface, where the horrid manifestation of my angry mother came to life.

Walking through the District always seemed to relieve me of my anger. I liked to play this game called daddy issues or mommy issues, where I, using my limited knowledge of a random passerby, like to guess which one they had. I mean, in this District, it seemed almost everyone you saw had some sort of tragic backstory. Whether it be a brother/sister/aunt/uncle/great-great-great-grandpa who passed tragically in the Games or the typical dead mom, dead dad situation, there were usually some juicy, exciting stories to make up in my head. Passing judgment on others made me forget about my shitty reality and feel sorry for whatever made-up fate I had thrown onto them in my mind.

The game is normally fun, but some asshole decided they wanted to play their guitar in the street, which totally ruined my vibe.

I looked over and saw some young dude strumming along, with very few people stopping to pay attention. That was life, I guess. No one had an appreciation for the arts these days, myself included. Who cares if you can pluck a few strings well? That wasn't entertaining in a world where most of us got entertainment from watching kids kill each other all day.

Despite my aversion to music, I decided to stop and listen for a while. He was alright. I guess he would probably be good if I cared enough about some rando playing the guitar on the street for money.

But that wasn't entertaining to me. He definitely needed to spice things up.

As the song wrapped up and he took a quick pause, I took full advantage and strutted up to the boy. He looked no younger than me, a youthful look to him which he could definitely play up to get him some more tips.

He reminded me a little of my younger brother, if Atlas were a little less nerdy and a lot less socially awkward. Then and there, I decided it was my duty to help him spice up his routine a little and get him some more money. After all, who didn't love unsolicited advice from strangers?

"Yo," I said, crossing my arms, "You need to do a whole lot more than sit there and play the guitar if you wanna make any kind of money around these streets."

[kap]

henry wren

- A million dreams are keeping me awake -

As I finished up the song I had been playing, a girl who'd been watching and listening for a few moments decided that there was an opportunity for her to approach me. It must have seemed like the right time for her, although I did consider myself to be a bit busy, as I was preparing for my next song.

Nevertheless, she spoke to me, giving me advice that I wasn't really sure that I wanted. She told me that I needed to do a whole lot more than just playing guitar in the streets of the District, trying to make a little bit of money. Apparently, she didn't think I would get anywhere with that. Glancing down at the small amount of cash I'd accumulated, I supposed she was right.

My goal was to be noticed by someone who might be able to help me become a popular music artist, but despite doing this for quite a few weeks in a row, I wasn't seeming to get anywhere. I supposed I might as well give this girl a chance to see what she had to say. Then again, I didn't know who she was, or how much I should really trust her.

Before my dad passed away, he'd always warned me about talking to and trusting strangers. It was more so of a warning when I was a little kid, but I'd learned to carry at least part of that warning with me since then. I'll talk to strangers, but trusting them is a whole other thing that I wasn't ready to delve into quite yet. At least, I didn't think so. Maybe this girl would be convincing enough, though.

If I wanted to get anywhere like Oliver had, I'd need to at least hear her out. Oliver didn't have money, but he had the attention I wanted. By the sound of it, this girl knew how to get the money I wanted, or at least what she said suggested that she might have a basic idea.

"Alright," I said to her, lowering my guitar and picking up the money that was in my guitar case. I stuffed the coins and bills into my pocket and looked at her. "What's your advice, then?"

I was hoping that it wasn't anything too drastic. Although, I was willing to try just about anything. I suppose I'd see what she was going to suggest and go from there. I didn't really care if Oliver approved of whatever it was. I'd looked for his approval my whole life, and I wanted to be done doing that. It wasn't healthy for me, I had realized.

I needed to be my own type of successful, and I didn't need Oliver to tell me how to do it. Then again, I was ready to let this girl tell me how to do it. I suppose things are different when you're talking to a person who you've never met before. It just feels more interesting. More thrilling. More risky. More fun.

497 words

template by punki of adoxography
lyrics: "A Million Dreams" from the Greatest Showman

[bailee]

adolesca marchenko.

He was either really desperate for money or was too timid to speak against me. Either way, I watched as the boy set his guitar down to listen to my advice. I smirked. This was going to be my fun for the afternoon.

I sat down beside him and ushered my hand toward him with a smile. "I'm Adolesca, by the way. Most people just call me 'Dol. Thanks for taking my help, it was kinda sad watching you," I admitted. One thing I couldn't bear was being the barer of secondhand embarrassment. Watching the poor guy pour his heart and soul into his guitar while passersby roamed around the District without even giving him a second thought truly was sad.

I thought to myself about how much of a great person I was by giving this guy a hand. Really, I could've just let him strum away and wreck my brooding zen. But I felt the need to help him; after all, he did remind me of my little brother. Except, I doubted Atlas would accept help from a total stranger who approached him on the street offering to help make him more money. He was a little smarter than this guy in that aspect.

"First off, you need to engage the crowd. People are poor around here - they're not gonna pay attention because they think you'll expect money from them. You gotta go right up to them, like, right up in their face. Force 'em to pay attention. Serenade a cougar if you need. Then they might find you charming enough to toss some money your way, or just get annoyed enough to throw money in your face to make you go away."

"Second, scandal sells. Ever notice how everyone's favorite tributes in the games always have some whack shit going on? You can't be afraid to let loose a little and be a little promiscuous," I offered him with a smile. Without waiting for a reaction I continued, "Let's start by taking off your shirt. Easiest way to draw attention is by showing a little skin."

Goddamn, I am a marketing genius. I should be this guy's manager or something.