Music played from a speaker, specifically a song by Bing Crosby “I got the sun in the morning , and the moon in the evening” , A boy sat in a hammock listening and reading a book. Harry Crossley, 16, was of average height and build, he had short dark hair and wore fair brown eyes. His mother called him in for dinner. He sets his book down and checks his phone, 7:30 pm, he quickly packs up his hammock. 7:50pm, Dinner was pot roast, one of his mom’s specialties, his dad was reading the news, his mom was washing some dishes and Harry sat eating, his father looked up “Harry you need to get a job, or at least go do something, better than doing nothing.”“I’ve been looking but nothing seems to fit” he replied. “No one takes singers with your voice anymore, Harry” his mom beckons, knowing about what he’s been looking for. “Harry I told you to stop looking for those opportunities” His dad says says sternly. Harry looks up meeting his dads stare, he then gets up and heads to his room. He jumps on his bed and pulls out the book from the hammock, and starts to read. 9:20pm, he looks outside to see it’s dark, he starts to think about singers from the 40’s, He falls asleep. 3:13 am, Harry wakes up he sees the time, he lays there and thinks, he sneaks out of his house and walks through his neighborhood to a park nearby. He stops and looks up at the night sky, stars riddle the black sheet above him, then he sees it a shooting star. “I wish I could be a singer then” he then looks around to see a car driving on a nearby street. Police?, he starts walking and then everything becomes black……
Then a light covers him, his clothes are different, he sees a bar in front of him, it’s French, it’s night time. He enters to see people sitting around and a small stage. A man rushes out past him, “welp, shit, there goes tonight’s act,” A man says. Harry turns around to see a man short and stocky. He is a little sweaty but brushes it off. “Act?” Harry questions. “Yes, he was supposed to sing” The guy says. “I can sing”. The man looks at the kid. “Who are you kid?”, “Sir, it’s Harry Crossley” Harry replies. The man ponders for a second, then looks at the crowd sitting around. “Fine, My name is Francis peaumont, I own this bar” he puts out his hand to shake. Harry takes it. “So Young man, don’t mess up”, Harry Nods. He heads to the stage and takes the mic. “Uh? Hello”
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