| "Sing us a song, you're the piano man. Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody. And you've got us feelin' alright." He sat back and clasped his fingers behind his head, his elbows catching the cool breeze of the fan as it oscillated back and forth. He glanced at the grandfather clock that stood proud in the back corner of the room. The minute hand seemed to have remained the same as the last time he'd glanced up, but the hour hand had advanced from the 12 to the 2. Two hours. He'd been sitting here for two hours wracking his brain, trying to come up with the chords, the notes to go along with the words he'd written. His new "Piece of Heaven" the guys called it. Come on, you can do this., he said, as if scolding himself. His eyes threatened to close on him. After a few more moments, he'd lost the battle. He jerked his head up, rubbing at his eyes and telling himself he needed to stay awake. He glanced back at the clock and did a double take. It was now 4:23. He'd slept for almost an hour and a half. He shook his head in attempt to get the sleepiness out and stared at the keyboard and steno pads laid out before him . Words scribbled over various parts of the front pages. Words that they wrote together, as a group, while sitting strewn about his living room earlier that night. "Come on, JC. You can put the notes to these words. You can bring this whole song around within seconds. You know you can," they urged. He could, he knew he could. He'd done it before. Tonight, everything creative seemed to escape him. "Sing us a song, you're the piano man. Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody. And you've got us feelin' alright." He'd heard this in his short nap. He thought maybe he was humming it to himself. This was his life. He wiggled his long, graceful fingers over the keys, willing them to fly over them and create the answer his friends looked to him for. His heart pumped the music into his veins and his energy surged as the ryhtym coursed through him. He'd always been musically inclined, but he couldn't put a finger on when it became his true passion, his oxygen. He was a proud man for all of his accomplishments with the group, but nothing could compare to the feeling of hearing that one of his creations, one of his babies, was worthy of praise. He beamed from ear to ear like a proud father when he merely recalled the look on his friends' and families' faces once they heard what he'd whisked up in the sanctuary that had become his think tank. Without warning, his fingers began moving, floating over the keys and hitting them in an unconscious effort to create the beautiful music he craved to be known for. When the group was said and done, though he never cared to think of it, he wanted to be known for his work aside from his vocal and dancing talent. The pure creativity that lived within him took over all of his instincts and worked with his mind to create the perfect instrumental backing to the song they'd collaborated on earlier that night. The words came from their hearts, but this music came from his soul. His hand reached for the pencil that rested beside the keyboard and he wrote so quickly, he could swear he smelled burning lead. And there it was. Sitting before him. He tested it out once, his voice singing the words they wrote, searching for the perfect pitch to match the notes of the instrument. The song. Their song. Complete. His work accomplished. Another song from the heart and soul of *NSYNC. "Sing us a song, you're the piano man. Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody. And you've got us feelin' alright" ** Lyrics from Billy Joel's "Piano Man"** Next - Justin Back To Soul Searcher Series |