Tag Archive: Kevin


“I wonder how badly people mishear the lyrics of our songs,” Rye murmured as he sat listening to his mp3 player.

Kevin looked up from the book he was reading and shrugged. “Mishearing lyrics has to do with a lot of things. It can be anything from a relaxed speech pattern, an accent, unusual cadence or rhythm, even instrumentation. We tend to annunciate pretty clearly so most of our fans can get what we’re saying.”

Rye smiled and nodded. “That’s good to know,” he replied.

“Why the sudden interest?” Kevin wondered.

Rye stood and handed Kevin his mp3 player as he asked, “He’s not saying… anything about his mom, right?”

Kevin listened for a moment before he grinned and shook his head. “It’s the song title,” he replied.

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Rye smiled as Kevin startled at the start of a song that he’d suspected was familiar to him. “This is an awesome version,” he whispered. “They did really good picking songs that were modern and making them sound period.”

“I don’t care with the critics say,” Rye murmured. “This is one of the best musicals that come around recently.”

“It appeals to the teller of tales in you,” Michael added.

“You too,” Kevin said, pointing at the younger boy’s open notebook.

Michael shrugged. “It’s a good story and a good question.”

“We live for today,” Rye said with a certainty. “Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a question mark. Today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.”

“I’ve always liked that saying,” Kevin murmured as he settled back to watch how the show played out.

“I like these words better,” Rye murmured as they listened to the song. “They seem happier.”

“Dancing as opposed to dying,” Kevin added. “Yeah, the version in the video is happier than the lyrics written on the page. That band obviously changed the lyrics to suit their needs.”

“Or the transcriptionist misheard the lyrics,” Leigh murmured.

“If the transcriptionist was deaf, that explanation might make sense,” Gareth said with a smirk. “Let’s sing their version, instead of the one written here.”

“I agree,” Hector said. “I actually considered this song for you before I found the written lyrics.”

Micheal grinned and held up his artpad. It was already full of images that matched the lyrics of the song. “I love ballads,” he said from behind the paper.

Rye smiled as he listened to the important lord of state. He was attentive and sweet, everything that someone of his personality type was expected to be. Kevin knew as he watched the boy that the friendly face he was showing to the outside world was covering the terrified jumble of emotions that he held in check.

He’d read the younger agent’s file. The boy had been in the house when his parents were killed, hiding in a safe room with his sister. His first mission by himself had proven disastrous and nearly lethal. His second mission, when the agency had consented to partnering him with his sister, had been nearly as disastrous. Kevin knew first-hand of another terrifying encounter the boy had had with a group of street thugs.

Despite the smile on his face, Rye was not nearly at ease with this group of strangers as he appeared. Kevin couldn’t imagine how he’d handle spending the night in the unfamiliar place.

When You’re Alone in Your Bed

Late that night, Rye sat up staring around the room. Part of him wanted to go to his sister’s room. Part of him wanted to go to one of the other boys’ rooms. Part of him was too scared to walk across the dark space of his own room.

Tears came to his eyes. He felt very much alone. He couldn’t say, even to himself, why he was so frightened. However, there was no way he could sleep alone in the strange room.

He startled when his door opened. A shadowy figure filled the doorway and Rye swallowed a whimper. “Rye, it’s me,” a familiar voice said.

“Kevin?” Rye whispered back.

“Hey, kid, having trouble sleeping?” the older boy asked. Kevin sat down on the foot of his bed and Rye nodded slightly. “Want me to stay for a little while?”

“Just until I’m asleep?” Rye replied.

“No problem,” came the easy reply. Rye smiled and lay down on the bed. With the familiar presence of Kevin, he could finally begin to relax. Sleep soon overtook him.

I was Born Too Late

Rye smiled as they began listening to Melina’s CD. “This is one of my favorites,” she whispered. The group sat quietly until the song’s end. “What’d you think,” she asked finally.

“I liked it,” Rye said. “The melody, the accompaniment and the lyrics… especially those.”

“I think we’ve all felt that it would be great to go back in time and ask famous people how we can be better in one way or another,” Michael added.

See now, when you told us the name of the piece, I was thinking it would be about being born in the wrong era, you know?” Gareth said. He tilted his head to one side as the others looked at him curiously. “I’ve often felt like I was born in the wrong era. I’m not sure which era I should have been born in though.”

“I’ve often felt like I was born in another era,” Rye commented.

“What… a past life?” Kevin said. He chuckled until he realized the boy was serious. “Right… well, all right then. Anyone else want popcorn?”

Rye frowned as he read the newspaper article. “Why are people so greedy?” he asked the room in general.

“People think money is what’s going to make them happy in life so they pursue it. Some people do so to the exclusion of everything else,” Kevin replied softly.

“A lot would be solved if people could be satisfied with what they already have and not chase after other things too,” Rye returned. He stood, setting the newspaper aside. “I think… there’s a story in there.

“There’s a lot of stories in there,” Kevin said.

“Yeah,” Rye agreed absently as he headed to his computer to write.

Kevin took a step forward and frowned as he watched the person ahead of him. The younger man said his full name, age and height. Before he even opened his mouth to sing, one of the judges was shaking his head. Had the man already been disqualified?

“I’m sorry, you don’t have the presence we’re looking for in the new band,” the man beside the hooded judge said.

The contestant sighed and walked off the stage dejectedly. “Next,” the youngest judge said in a bright voice.

Kevin swallowed thickly and stepped onto the stage. It was now or never. “Kevin Samuels,” he said. “Age twenty-three, height at five foot seven inches.” He paused and the hooded judge nodded at the others. As he sang, the youngest judge sketched furiously. The only one of the three who seemed to be truly listening was the bespectacled man on the far end.

When he was finished, all three judges wrote down a number on a scorecard and held it up. The hooded judge’s card read 10. The youngest judge held a 9.5. The final judge held a card with a 9 written on it. Beside the number was a sizable scribble, as if something had been scratched out. Beside that was a smaller .5, squeezed in almost as an afterthought. Kevin relaxed. He was moving onto the next round.

“We’re going to live here?” Rye asked in shock. He turned to the manager. The man was joking. The real house the band mates would share was down the road, perhaps in the next town over.

The man looked down at the map then up at the decrepit building and nodded. “This is the place,” he said with forced cheer.

“It’s got a certain character,” Michael said softly as he stepped up the creaking porch stairs. Rye expected the wood to give way under his feet but it held. “When we aren’t writing or rehearsing we can work on fixing up the place. When it’s done it’ll be beautiful.”

“And we’ll be old men,” Gareth muttered. “I’m sleeping downstairs. I don’t want the floor to cave in under me while I’m out for the night.”

“There’s a basement,” Kevin remarked, leading the way into the building.

“We’re going to live here?” Rye repeated as he followed the older boys into the building. He cast a glance at his sister. What, exactly, had they gotten themselves into?

Rye settled down to listen to the music coming from Kevin’s CD. It was the same group that they’d listened to the other day; he recognized the singer’s voice. The song seemed sad and solemn at first but then turned hopeful.

“This is a nice song,” he remarked softly.

“It was used heavily in a television show about people who were immortal,” Kevin said as the song ended. “They would get involved with mortals and then lose that loved one, whether through accident or simply old age. Often times it played as they contemplated how sad it was to continue without the one they loved.”

“It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” Rye pointed out. They were happier being social than holding themselves aloof, I’m sure.”

Kevin nodded. “Our life on this earth may be fleeting but the people we touch, touch others and it continued endlessly. In that way, everyone lives forever.”

I Can Help You Cry

“There’s another song with a similar sentiment,” Kevin said. “I can’t take away your pain but I can help you cry or cry with you. I like that song, even if it isn’t something I’d usually listen to.”

Gareth nodded and murmured, “It is a sweet song.”

“I’ve heard a bluegrass cover of it too,” Rye said. He tilted his head and frowned. “It was… too bouncy and the phrasing was a little off, but overall it was pretty good.”

“Bluegrass?” Michael said, shuddering a little. “Please, no thanks.”

“The whole idea of these sessions is to expose us to music we ordinarily wouldn’t listen to, Michael. We listened to your songs,” Rye returned. “Needless to say it wasn’t something I enjoyed but I listened for its musical merits.”

Michael held up his hands in defeat. Rye grinned and scampered off. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“It’s what you get for torturing him with spoken word music,” Leigh replied.

Monica Ferris

an author with many hats

A Land of Curiosity

From the files of Shynian Intelligence

Heather's Fancies

tales from the enchanted gardens and shadow hollow

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