Why Does The Sun Shine?[open]

[Rae]

So hot...so full of heat, the terrible, unbearable heat accompanied with the blinding rays of an unmerciful sun. The car was packed with summer temperatures and Rae was laying back in the passenger's seat with an arm thrown over her eyes. A heavy sigh left her full lips as she woke up from her exhaustion induced sleep. With a thump her arm fell onto the side of the door and her long lashes lifted with a little difficulty. After taking a moment to get herself together Rae sighed and shook her head before she got out of the car and took the keys. Ah yeah, the park, she had parked here in the middle of the night when a police officer had rapped on her window and told her to park some where else.

Looking around once she closed and locked her car door she saw the it was about nine am. Not a lot of people were out since adults were at work and kids had to come by themselves or an adult who was fine with just baby sitting. But there were few people there and that was fine. Rae ran her fingers through her hair before she inhaled slowly and then walked on towards the playground equipment.

Rae glanced over her shoulder before she then looked forward and yawned a bit, she was hungry and her stomach grumbled in response but she would have to eat later. Sitting down on a swing she would rock on it slowly, her hair fluttering in the warm summer breeze. Tonight she would need to run a few rounds, sell some of the stuff one of her "colleagues" had given her. She only had thirty five bucks to her name and needed more for gas and food to last through out the week.

She had actually planned to go tomorrow to a job interview.And she was, she just needed a good shower and some clothes and some practice. She was going to try and be a Lounge Singer. Wasn't the grandest of jobs but it was a job and it payed well and let her be some where besides the streets for plenty of hours and nights.

Rae just hoped that they would take her, prayed they would give her the chance she needed so maybe she could get back on her feet.

[oliver anderson]

The soft notes of a weakened violin tangled with the ghostly haunting of an abandoned playground. Amidst the lonely creaks of the lifeless swings and the rare exhale of the suffocating summer air, the gentled tune of hope drifted on the whim of optimism. A young man sat on top of a picnic table, letting he fingers dance effortlessly across the worn strings. His eyes were closed, hiding the deep brown shade that wallowed in the sorrow of the past and revealed his heart's greatest wound, bleeding with the sore mourning over his inevitable sacrifice. His trophy was his present state; his object of surrender had been his security, his wealth and a stable future. However, in the tune he played, though uplifted on the lazy breath of the summer's air, toyed with note of regret. Misery coiled around his solitary expression as temptation to abandon the passion of his life and return to his father's dictatorship, slipped into his desperate thoughts.

He pushed them away, burying himself in the illusion of perfection and of a different future than what was expected of him. He often dreamed to find a merciful soul that would forgive his errors and draw an exception from his situation. These were no more than simple dreams, floating on his natural supply of optimism provided by his boyishly innocent smile. The truth was solid and kept in his frail cage of freedom, roaming the streets and holding his violin close.

The music lifted, quickening into brighter notes as his fingers moved fluently across the strings and the bow brushed angelically against a childish tune. Below the shadow of his black jazz hat, he curved an amused smile across his playful lips. His heart swelled with a sense of freedom, shattering his chains of worry and sweeping him upon careless thoughts of his innocent imagination. He became naive to the starving murmur in his stomach or the the thirsty demand of is throat, and drifted on the wings of his restless soul. He pursued the illusion a while longer before it fell stale from its flight and landed gracefully upon its last chord, returning to the reality of silence found within the lonely wailing of the swings.

His heart exhaled, releasing his dream as he placed the old violin into its case, gently brushing the oiled wood with a handkerchief until he was content with its careful preservation. His gaze lifted after he was finished and curiously explored the change of the playground since his last observation. His attention was quickly drawn to a young lady slowly swaying on a swing as the warm breeze from a sigh of warmth toyed with her brown hair. She must have been no older than he and yet she seemed to wallow in her own troubles. The young man closed his violin case after little contemplation and began his short trip into her presence. when he got within a few steps, he offered a friendly smirk, toying with a boyish look in his eye. He appeared quiet innocent today, clinging to his violin, a lopsided jazz hat balanced on his disheveled brown hair, a dark blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of old khaki shorts. He set his case down and invited himself to sit down on the swing at the right of her. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it miss?" he chirped brightly. He began to loosely swing forward and back, falling into the motion quickly as he rocked his continuous smirk.

[Rae]

The music playing was like a perfect tune to this day. It was indeed a lovely day and even Rae had to take a moment to look up at the blue sky with its big marshmallow clouds. To think that even though people like her were walking around with a dark, cloudy life, that the sun still managed to break through and shine. At times Rae wished it was the night all the time or she wished it would just rain that way she would feel better a little. She wouldn’t feel as brought down since the world was covered in gloom as well. Ugh, she really needed help. Looking over she saw the figure of a young man playing on his violin, the strings played a song that was sad and gorgeous. Tilting her head her hands would clench the chains of her swing as he got up and put his things away and then his gaze settled on her. Rae drew her eyes away even though she heard his steps come closer and closer.

Just catching a look when he was close her eyes ran over his appearance. He was a handsome thing, dressed in clothes that were cute and fitting against his frame and his face showed a vulnerable innocence that made her hazel eyes focus as words flowed in her head of a story about a boy. But she quickly pushed those thoughts back when he smirked and then sat down beside her on the swing. At his statement she nodded just a little and gently kicked at the sandy ground before she sighed and then said, “Yes, a beautiful day.”

Leaning back in the swing her legs went out and then kicked, sending her up a little more. Her hair swishing over her shoulders and around her face, going a little faster she then looked over. Stopping suddenly she had her feet in the ground, standing up with the swing against her bottom, smiling sweetly to show her dimples. “You play beautifully by the way.” Taking a slow sweep of the park her eyes would trace over the green lush grass and the strong trees with slides and monkey bars sprinkled over the land.

“I’m Rae,” she said, not looking at him as she settled back into the swing and let her feet go off the ground to start swinging again.

[oliver anderson]

Oliver had a reputation of brightening up a day with an innocent flash of his smile or a small string of playful words. He hardly failed to bring the soft rays of sun to a gloomy situation and even made it his duty if he was witness to an unfaithful frown. Though young, and often called naive, he was no stranger to the prospect of the true simplicity of joy; he understood, more than most, that joy was natural and the only thing that withheld it from ruling expressions was the stubborn negative beliefs staining the unimaginative mind of adults. He was quite childish, rarely respected, and often overlooked as a clueless member of a dark society; in truth, he was the single strong soul, allowing himself to fall into the illusion simplicity through surrendering every worry to praise the gift of his loyal breath.

As he approached her, he had walked with a careless spring in his step, uplifted on an angelic gait. As he sat down beside her, it was evident he was neither stranger to swings nor the simple joy it brought him to be lightly cradled and swung into the open air. His eyes strayed from her and settled curiously on the rest of the people silently mourning over their pathetic lives. It seemed that during school hours, the one with no future, no money, no joy, sought comfort within the reminders of their fuller childhood. He grinned as he leaned back, his arms straightening completely to hold himself from falling as he dared to stretch farther away from the chains and extend his legs straight ahead. "The only question is how to enjoy it," he murmured quietly. Closing his eyes against the dull rays of the sun he inhaled slowly before pulling himself back up to sit hunched forward on the swing.

He fell silent, curling his fingers around the chains of the swing and leaning his head against it. Her compliment hung in the air between them for a moment before he took it with a sideways glance to witness her brightened smile. He grinned, toying with the curves of his lips before he spoke. "Thank you, I am glad you liked it," he said. He then looked away and focused his eyes to stare at the mingled wood chips on the ground before he let himself swing loosely forward in the dull breath of the summer's air. "I'm Oliver, but everybody calls me Smilie," he replied, casting another look at her. She was quite a pretty lady with golden brown hair and sharp hazel eyes—he was, however, more concerned with the fact that he had not met her, much less, heard of her. It was a small town and somehow it felt impossible to have missed her everyday for the past two years. "Are you new here, or have I just not seen you around?" he asked. The simple question he posed toyed with curious notes that were followed by a patient silence.