Original Writing

For my GCSE coursework. hence the useless title.

A heavy rain pounded down on the roofs of the haphazardly parked cars on both sides of the street outside a small bar on the corner. For the most part they were in a bad way, paint faded and peeling, spotted with, or in the case of a small Volkswagen covered completely, with rust. A taxi pulled up, carefully squeezing through the mass of parked cars, in slightly better condition than the vehicles around it, the glowing lights seemed almost alien in the dark street and the pouring rain that kept up a steady rhythm. The door opened, as a man in a battered leather jacket and faded blue jeans, carrying a battered violin case, climbed out, slamming the door closed behind him. The taxi maneuvered its way through the cars, then sped of into the rain, as if the driver was trying to escape the darkness and relative emptiness of the street. The man pulled his jacket closer around him and crossed the road to the bar, looking up at the damaged neon sign hanging on by a couple of nails to the cracked mortar between the bricks. He pulled out a scrap of paper and looked at it then at the sign, then he looked at the boarded up window. He sighed, put the paper away in an inner pocket, and pushing his dripping blonde hair out of his eyes pushed open the door.

Cigarette smoke drifted lazily in a slow, twisting, somber dance over the heads of the assortment of people sat at small tables around a low stage. The room was packed, young, old, male, female, the innocent and the criminal, all had gathered here to hear the beautiful, slightly ethereal looking Carrie O’Mara play the violin, the bar looked in suspiciously better condition than when he had last been here, the owner had obviously been doing well from Carrie's talent. They were just finishing up the last set as he wandered over to the bar and sat down on a stool, the only free seat in the room, setting the case on the floor beside him. You could still hear the rain inside, but it wasn’t annoying, just another sound in the music that filled the room and made these people, if only for one night, exactly the same as the people on the next table, in awe of the beauty ,and the talent, of the player.

She was on the last song, a slow tune, the music rose and fell weaving around the people, she obviously found happiness in the music but the tune itself was sorrowful, it made you think of things you had lost, dark days and lonely nights, people you had never kept in touch with, of empty old houses that the wind whistled through while you were trying to sleep. It was the feeling that you were only here for one day, and that you would only stay for one day in the next town and so on. He hated it, that feeling that he had tried to leave behind, the feeling of not belonging to one place, not having a home.

She finished the song and with the violin and bow in her hand wandered over to the bar,

"Bacardi breezer, please Jack" she said to the bartender in a low voice that had a soft rural Irish accent, not surprising, considering her name. The man smiled, she sounded just as he remembered.

"Hello Carrie" he said in a rural accent to match hers, she spun round, shocked by the sound of her name used with such familiarity, but smiled when she saw who it was. Throwing her arms round his neck in a hug she murmured,

"Oh my God, Edward, when Mio said one of the worse gangs in Dublin was after you, I thought I’d never see you again, But you turn up here, after 5 years, barely changed at all" she squeezed tighter, crying quietly. He stroked her long hair, the same colour as his.

"Don’t cry, little sister, I had to disappear or they would have come after you as well, I had to keep you and mother safe, whatever it cost" He murmured, eyes burning.

　

She drew back and picked up the Bacardi off the bar top and took a swig, She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand and smiled weakly at him, then frowned at him,

"Let me look at you then" she said sternly, looking at the unkempt hair which needed a good wash with some soap, he needed a shave, but then he always did look like that, The green eyes that five years ago had been full of laughter, were now tired and careworn, he was thin, even the coat, jeans and battered checked shirt couldn’t hide that, but, she was pleased to see, he still had his violin.

"Do you still play then?", He smiled sadly, eyes flicking to the violin in her hand, and then down to the battered case by his feet, the contrast between the two wasn’t hard to see.

"Yeah, when it was hardest I always would play, music was always my life, Carrie, you know that.". Carrie laughed, making him jump,

"Good, you can come on stage with me, I could use some back-up, I’m going to play some well known ones so you’ll be able to keep up", Edward laughed suddenly,

"Lil’ sis, I was playing Mozart before you were born, I think I can keep up", she drank the rest of her drink, just grinned at him and walked back towards the stage. He picked his violin case up and followed her as she wove gracefully through the chairs, stools, crates, and the assortment of people perched, slouched or otherwise sat on them. She stepped up on stage and walked to the microphone,

"Alright folks, I’ve got someone for you to meet, this is Edward O’Mara, my elder brother"

There was a smattering of unenthusiastic applause as he pulled out his violin, in striking contrast to the case the violin was well kept, shiny polished wood, well tuned with no broken strings, the bow was the same, strings waxed and perfect. He walked up to his sister and said in a low voice,

"Let me play something first, then I’ll join in with you" she nodded and stepped back.

He moved the microphone to the back of the stage the walked back to the front, setting the bow to the strings, he closed his eyes and began to play. Everyone gaped as a sweet tune filled the place, it seemed to surprise them that such music could come from an unkempt man with wet hair and a battered case that had seen better days. He finished the tune and beckoned Carrie forwards, She started play a lively old jig that he joined in with, the two voices of the violins blended seamlessly together, they played ‘till the early hours of the morning and most of the customers were still there, though most were slumped over the tables in a drunken stupor.

They stopped playing as the owner walked over, Edward packed up his case and then smiled at the man, he had always liked the American, and had gathered from what Carrie had said, that he had protected her and his mother while he was away.

"Hey Mio, is it always this busy?",

"Na, only when Carrie here is playing" Mio gestured to the bar, a few customers who weren’t to drunk were leaving,

"Most of the time we don’t even get a quarter of this many"

Edward smiled and looked Mio up and down, he was tall, approaching 30, with a wonky nose that had been broken to many times, blue eyes twinkled under heavy black eyebrows, and he had a mess of black hair with a few grays.

The door slammed open and three guys swaggered in, they were all big and muscled, they all looked as if it would be their pleasure to bash your head in with a baseball bat, and they all had a tattoo marking them as part of the O’Leary Gang. They spread out, one moving to cover the bartender behind the bar, one staying by the exit, and one making his way towards the stage. Another man came through the door, He was short and thin, with a shock of red hair, he looked menacing, as if he knew you were all dead but he hadn’t set a time yet.

Edward paled,

"That’s Seamus, he’s the main hit man for O’Leary" Edward whispered to Mio and Carrie, he’s here for me, because I left, because to them, I’m a lose end that needs to be tidied up, I know to much, so they’ve sent the blood prince, Seamus Finn, after me.

They all looked up at Finn, Mio looked angry, Carrie looked scared, and Edward looked a mixture of both, angry that his friends had been dragged into this, and scared of Finn.

The rain pounded on the roofs, on the pavement and the road, on the parked cars, and the two sleek sedans that had been parked in the middle of the road, it soaked a discarded newspaper, drenched a rather stupid alley cat, and did what rain did best.

Author's Note

storylines a bit thin, but apart from that, what do you think?
constructive comments welcome :)