Real by Sunhawk

"That was beautiful."

I turned in startlement and scanned the sunlit studio, wondering where that voice had come from. I had thought I was alone, all the techs having left hours ago and I remaining out of a sheer need for a little solitude. A little quiet.
So that I could hear myself again, regain a sense on inner balance that kept me sane. But it seems I had a visitor.

There. Over there. In the shadows, almost hidden from the golden beams the sun cast in the room. It was a girl. A girl? Was it a fan? If it was, a strange fan indeed.

"Excuse me?" I finally replied politely, when I realized that my silence had gone on a little long. But the girl didn't seem to mind, from the darkened corner I thought I could see her lips quirked in an amused smile.

"Your singing," she explained in a quiet voice that barely carried through the room, "As always, it's beautiful."

I blushed as I realized that it was rather obvious that it was indeed my singing she had been referring to. There was no one else in the room, after all.

"Um, thank you. Who are you?" I could not contain my curiousity. Who was this tallish girl with hair long and tinted like a exotic ocean, in her green dress, rainbow tights and, unbelievably, huge brown work boots. She tilted her head and looked at me with hazel eyes that hid things. They must have hid things, to sparkle so.

"Can you sing again? For me? Please?" She replied wistfully, ignoring my earlier question. I blinked and paused, as she watched me unmoving from her seat on that old stool.

Sing for a fan? Not an unusual request. And no reason to not fulfill it, after all, that was what I was doing anyway.
Getting one last curious look at my new one-person audience, I cleared my throat carefully.

She hadn't picked a song, so I let my mind wander and eventually settled on "You Can Still Be Free". It seemed suitable for a silent, still day such as this, with the room a mixture of sun and shadow. It was even autumn and if I looked through the large bay windows, I would see the flame-colored leaves rustling in the wind.

But I closed my eyes, as I let myself get caught up in the song, the only way to truly sing, with not only your voice but your heart. The fact that it was only for this one girl did not matter. I sang this way for a crowd of thousands or to only myself when lonely. I even forgot about who was watching me, where I was, lost in a musical world of my own making until a soft touch on my throat startled me into stopping.

My eyes snapped open and looked about, rapidly focusing on the girl who was now not even a foot from me. And it was her arm outstretched, fingers that had just a moment ago been held against my neck, and she looked back at me, her smile growing larger at what was probably a terribly confused expression on my face.

"...Uh...What are you doing?" I nearly stammered, so very confused. The girl laughed in response, her eyes glinting golden as she let a strand of teal hair fall into her eyes.

"I wanted to know that it is real."

"That what is real?" I asked, feeling like I was missing something big.

"Your voice."

I felt my brow wrinkle as I regarded my mysterious companion and her words. Why would my voice not be real?

"I don't understand." I confessed, as the girl pulled her arm back and put it behind her discreetly. She seemed fascinated by my hair for a moment, gazing at it intently before turning her eyes back to mine.

"People hear you. You are recorded with perfection for all time. A slip of a dial, press of a button and your voice flows out like you are beside one. Yet, sometimes it doesn't seem real. The music thrums in one's blood, fills one's head and never leaves. How can something so real and yet more than real come from a human throat?"

I'm pretty sure I'm staring at her with even more incomprehension than before, if that's possible. She laughs again, a quiet little dancing giggle, and rolls her eyes just a little.

"Sing?" She says again in that wistful tone.

Trying to gather my tangled thoughts, I blink and then nod slightly, closing my eyes and wondering what she is up to. As I let my voice reach its full volume potential, I once again feel those fingers on my throat, so very delicate it's hard to tell whether they are actually there or if I am imagining them.

I wait for her to do something. Hell, half of me is expecting this to be some subtle and complicated way to seduce me. I have been a rockstar long enough to develop a large imagination of what fans can get up to. But there is no movement from her, she could be a statue at my side, as my singing vibrates her fingers.

The song ends and I feel her touch leave my skin. I open my eyes again. She stands near, illuminated by sunlight, and I shake my head slightly. This is too surreal.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making things real. Not machine real, not television real, not even concert real. You. Real. Nothing else."

I run my hand through my hair, unsure how she is complimenting me. Yet, I think I can somewhat understand her.
Maybe.

"Did I pass some sort of test?"

She looks at me, and that expression of amusement that never leaves her face softens for a moment.

"Test? Only the test you want it to be. I just wanted to hear you sing."

"You are one straaaange fan."

She chuckles at this, a mischievous look on her face.

"So I've been told."

I turn and grab my trusty bottled water, unscrewing the cap for a quick swig.

"So, what is your name...." I trail off as I turn back around. There is no one in the room. Oh excellent. Now I will never know if I had just dreamed up the whole thing. And I still want to know her name.

I think back again to her words. Real? I'm not real?
No she was saying my voice was not real. What did that mean? Why did I feel like I had still not gotten what she was saying, that it was something I probably should know?

Maybe she wasn't doing this for you, Mr. Self-Centred. Maybe she just wanted to have something undistilled. Isn't that what she said? Just you?

I look outside again to the lazily swirling fall leaves. Silence once again fills the studio, timelessness that only a perfect autumn day can bring.

I decide that I think too much. It's time to leave this studio, where I have recorded my heart for the world to hear.
It's a lovely place, but I need out. Somewhere new. Somewhere real.