WA-2 Second Draft (Character and Setting)

The rough cement scratched his jeans as he sat playing his brand new Les Paul. The warm sunshine glistened on the smooth orange-yellow finish of Ace's guitar. A drop of sweat slowly fell along the side of his forehead passing his light hazel eyes and continuing down his face till it disappeared under the edge of his jaw bone. But still, he kept playing. Ace plucked the strings of his guitar with his bright blue pick. His fingers were arranged in complicated sequences, unnatural to a foreigner of music. Each strum created a wave of the ocean swimming across the vast, open fields and sidewalks of the park. He strummed slowly, then quickly, playing an old rock tune. Down, down, up, down.

Passerby's ears turned to search for the sweet sound of the tune and bouncing around the trees and off the couples sitting on the benches. A small crowd gathered around to listen. They whispered to one another, one talking and pointing, the other nodding.

Do they hate my music?...Ace thought as he watched a small boy place a bill in the case lying beside his right leg. Another lady walked up and he heard coins hitting the smooth black velvet in his case. Clink-a-clunk. He thought again, I hope not. He began to sing. A soft tune flowed from his mouth, like music flowing off a page. He continued playing. A larger crowd had gathered to watch. All eyes were on Ace but he didn't let that get to him. He kept strumming and singing. His heart raced as still more people gathered. He spoke, "Thank you", when a break in the verses came and as more people dropped money into the open mouth of his case.

Ace looked into the crowd again to see some one pushing his way to the front. It was a round man, with broad shoulders and a rough face. He wore gasses framed with thick black. He watched Ace with beaming eyes till he finished his song. "That was great. Good going, kid." Ace paused, surprised at the man's comment. Ace had never played in the park before. He didn't expect such a crowd. The man spoke again. "I'm from International Records on 6th and Main. I would love if you passed by. Just ask for Johnny Rehnolds." The man handed over a small card. Ace rubbed his thumb over the man's name, number, and the outline of a black globe. It had a large ‘I’ in the center with ‘International Records’ written under it. Ace was still in shock as he packed the lucky guitar into his case.

He gathered the money, shoving it into his pocket. It would take to long to count all the coins in the park so he raced out of the gate, which made a break in the low stone walls that outlined the park's edge. He walked quickly into the racing traffic of rush hour. He dodged cars as he ignored the lights over the crosswalks that signaled pedestrians to cross by showing the white lit man in a half running position. Car honks flew at Ace like an eagle grabbing its prey. But still he continued. He hurried home. A smile was planted across his face from nearly ear to ear. It never left his face as he anxiously practiced a new song to play in the park tomorrow.

This was only the beginning.