Music prompt - memories by panic at the disco / maybe some blupjeans? Or wherever you wanna go w it
Blupjeans is such an excellent choice for this song, how can I refuse? I tried something a little different with this one - looking at their relationship and plans through a kind of unattached third party. I hope you like it!
They were young and independent / And they thought they had it planned. / Should have known right from the start / You can’t predict the end.
Oh memories / Where’d you go? / You were all I’ve ever known / How I miss yesterday / How’d I let it fade away?
Among the handful of remains of a previous life was a worn notebook. It was placed in a box, carefully set beneath a few other items, with a cover that had started to curl up a little at the edges and pages that were a little water damaged. It had a name written on it, but the marks were worn away almost completely. It was supposed to be for calculations; that much was obvious from the first few pages, the complicated calculations looking for answers that are overwhelmingly difficult, almost impossible. There was only one person left who knew where to find the important things, and he doesn’t know it now.
On one of the first pages was a sketch of the face of a woman. It wasn’t very large, created by a shaky hand, and it wasn’t very skilled. But there was a careful consideration in the lines, clearly the work of a whole afternoon and enough erase marks that the artist seemed unsure of his subject. The features were agonized over, and the sketch was left partially incomplete. It was drawn from memory, and not very well, but with sincere effort.
Underneath the sketch was a cartoonish drawing of a man’s face wearing glasses. “Nerd” was written out in block letters, and there was an arrow pointing at the face so there could be no doubt what the comment was about. It was drawn quickly, in low light, and left for discovery the next morning.
The pages with calculations, graphs, charts were not spared from the exchange. Correct answers, after pages and pages of incorrect attempts and frustrated, scratched lines over work, were rewarded with tiny images of smiling faces.
Several pages in the middle were dedicated to tiny pieces of musical notation. There was no completed song in the notebook, but instead little hints of a greater whole that existed somewhere else. No part of the music was scratched out, only expanded upon in two different hands. Successful passages were noted, this time, with hearts.
In the notebook, on a particularly worn page, was the layout of a house. It took the entire page, and the walls had clearly been changed a few times. Every room had a label. There was a living room, a large kitchen, and an entire second floor that was almost completely filled with bedrooms, names written out carefully. And for pages and pages after, there were the beginnings of plans - a list of prospective jobs under one name, a list of things to do under another. The layout of a lab, the layout of a restaurant, places to visit, goals to meet, things to have. Every plan tapered off into nothing; only the house seemed to be complete.
There was another plan outlined in a series of pages filled with new types of calculations. The magic symbols and diagrams for the defiance of death were written out alongside the practical and scientific application of magic. In the corner, almost an afterthought, is a drawing of two smiling skulls with a heart over their heads. On the back of one page, written in small letters in the corner, was a list of activities to fill a day. Interspersed throughout were jokes and puns about bones.
At the back of the notebook was one last plan. There was the image of a light breaking into seven parts. The sketch did not give any hint whether or not the plan worked.
The last significant thing in the notebook was a torn-out page. It might have been a note, once; it might have been hiding somewhere at the bottom of the same box. There is someone who knew what it said, but he doesn’t know it now.