Songs By Her

"People seem to misunderstand a lot of things. People take for granted things that one might have to commit crimes for. People don't understand a lot of things. People don't understand me."
Enkeli Jane Runes is judged like the cover of a book, criticized as if she were a movie, and stepped on like the hard concrete. They only see what's on the surface, they don't bother to look underneath. But what if Runes is discovered by none other then the Simon Cowell? Will he take the poor girl in? Or will he kick her down just like anyone else?
Five Pop-stars, One Television Producer, and One homeless girl?
This ought to be interesting..

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1. Prologue

Third Person

 

"Get out of the way!" A scruffy man shouted at the girl, honking his horn repeatedly.

 

Quickly, her skinny frail legs scampering onto the other side of the street, her guitar case banging against her arse. She was short and skinny, her legs having a gap the size of three large textbooks and her arms the size of an average persons wrist. On her head was thin strands of tangled light-brown hair, her scalp barely covered. Her face held tiny specks of blackheads, and a few pimples scattered on her right cheek and temples. Her lips were chapped and crusted, but full nonetheless. Giving her a tamed Angelina Jolie lip-look. Her nose was small, a button nose. Her face was a mix of a heart and circle, with small ears hidden under her hair. Her complexion was pale, almost the shade of a piece of printer paper, and had a minimum amount of color. 
Taking a deep sigh, she sat on the nearest park bench, and took her guitar out of it's case, which she left open. She began to tune it, the annoying high pitch evening out smoothly. Taking a deep breath she began a cover of a song she always heard, and loved.

"I wanna be drunk when i wake up, on the right side of the wrong bed.
And never an excuse i made up, tell you the truth i hate.

What didn't kill me, it never made me stronger at all.

She sang smoothly, her voice angelic and beautiful, causing the attraction of many people. Her empty case was slowly being filled with dollar bills and change. She smiled happily as she sang, looking at her fingers position.

"Love will scar your makeup lip sticks to me, so now i maybe lean back there.
I'm sitting here wishing i was sober, i know i'll never hold you like i used too." 

Taking a nervous breath, she began the quicker part.

"But a house gets cold when you pick up the heating, without you to hold i'll be freezing.
Can't rely on my heart to beat in, 'cause you take parts of it every evening. 
Take words out of my mouth just from breathing.
Replace with phrases like you're leaving me.
Should i? Should i?

Maybe i'll get drunk again. I'll be drunk again, i'll be drunk again, to feel a little love. 

Happy with the crowds reaction, she finished Ed Sheeran's song. She sang a couple of his other songs, then went to The Fray, finishing off with The Script. By the time sun set, her once empty case was full of many types of bills. With a content smile upon her usually strait face, she counted the bills.
100 Euros.
Astonished, she stared at the bills, and her beaten guitar. Slowly she folded the bills, and stuffed it safely on her inside pocket. She began to put away her guitar, when a man stopped in front of her. She looked up at the man with curious eyes. His slightly wrinkled face was up in a polite smile, the wrinkles around his eyes making it seem smaller. He had short dark hair with various strands of white. He held out his hand, and introduced himself.

"I'm Simon Cowell." 

 

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